


looking at you

by PinkHydrangea



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkHydrangea/pseuds/PinkHydrangea
Summary: In an Arranged Marriage AU, Kagero is engaged to the High Prince's retainer, the Fifth Saizo, for the benefit of both their families. She holds no love for this stranger, however, and he feels much the same.





	1. miai

**Author's Note:**

> ok so like..., arranged marriage aus??? just heck me up. writings summaries?? also heck me up.  
> in any case, i came up with the concept of an arranged marriage au, where Kagero's older brother was never sick, so he went to Shirasagi to become Ryoma's retainer while she got to stay home and look after her family and become a bit more of a "proper lady." and then like.... saigero... and arranged marriage where they slowly fall in love... and then this monstrosity happened.. with it's super gross cheesy shoujo title and junk and.. forgive me  
> i decided to write this two months ago and only just finished it, but in my defense, college started.

The spring sky was perfectly blue, the air was fragrant with the smell of the honeysuckle bushes, and birds sang in the trees. Kagero put her hands behind her into the grass, threading the strands through her fingers, and watched a particularly quick cloud drift through the sky while she waited for the messenger to arrive. It was near noon, and the particular messenger that had been delivering the letters from Shirasagi as of the past year always,  _ always  _ arrived at noon sharp. Never a second early, never a second late. She admired his punctuality.

The door to the house behind her slid open, and her mother emerged with a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. “Slacking off?” she asked.

Kagero hummed and tilted her head back. The sunshine felt good on her skin. She could bathe in it forever. “I already finished my morning chores, Mother. I’m just waiting for the washing to dry and the messenger to come.”

Her mother stepped carefully off the patio of the house and joined her. “Oh? Is today letter day already?”

“How do you lose track? I can never seem to stop counting the very minutes until letter day.”

The older woman scoffed and reached down to pat her child on the head. “I’ve got a looser memory than you, child. Give this old woman a break.”

“You aren’t old, Mother.”

Her mother tittered, then retreated back to the house, requesting that Kagero tell her when the letters came. Another ten minutes in the sun passed, in which she tried to coax a rabbit towards her and plucked up extra tall blades of grass, before the messenger arrived on horseback. He gave a polite greeting, as he always did, handed her the letters, then took her own. He made some idle chat as usual, bits of dull gossip from the capital, then mounted his horse and took off again with a quick farewell.

Kagero counted the letters- four exactly, all enveloped in nice paper with respectable wax seals- and opened the door to the house. She found her mother sketching at the table, her fingers black with charcoal, and her father sitting across from her to watch. They both looked up as she entered, their eyes immediately going down to the letters with eager expressions.

“Right on time,” her father noted. “How many are there this time?”

“Only four,” she responded. She tucked her knees under her and read the names written on the back of the envelopes as she passed them out. “One for each of us from Obi, and an extra one for me from Orochi.”

Kagero slid her fingers under the seal of Orochi’s envelope while her parents continued to talk. The violet wax gave easily underneath her push, and a good three pages of writing tried to spring from the confines ahead of the others. She reached in and pulled out three, four, five pages, checked to make sure they were all in order, and then proceeded to read.

Orochi’s letters were always written in the attempt to make Kagero laugh. She told laughable stories about the frivolities of court, embarrassing mishaps with the noble men who constantly tried (and failed) to woo the queen, idiotic things that her fellow retainers had done. She drew cute doodles in the margins to emphasize the points of her stories, made terrible jokes, all before she insisted on knowing every detail of Kagero’s life, no matter how dull it was.

Her eyes read the last line, “ _ always yours, Orochi _ ,” twice before she folded the pages and slid them back in the envelope. She pulled her letter from her brother out of its confines next and began to read. Much of the information he gave her was the same as what Orochi said in her letter, but he offered new tidbits- the fact that in one man’s attempt to woo the queen, he’d accidentally fallen into a fountain was a particularly amusing detail that Orochi had skimped out on, Kagero thought. She traced her finger down the side of the page as she continued to read, stroked every line lovingly, before coming across the main contents of the letter.

_ “My partner, Saizo, and I have recently clashed again. His insistence on doing things recklessly worries me and our lord to no end. I try to be a good influence on him, but he seems to enjoy courting danger at every turn, no matter what. It’s quite confusing- he has a younger twin brother, also in service to the royal family, who almost resembles you in temperament, but the two of them couldn’t be more different, and they argue frequently. It makes me glad that you and I have such similar personalities. I’d hate to argue with you whenever we get to see one another. _

_ In any case, there is a bit of news that I’ve informed our parents of in their letters, and I’m sure that they’ll discuss the matter with you at length as soon as everyone is done reading. I’d like to tell you beforehand that I was completely against the idea, but I haven’t got a very strong say in it. Please write to me soon with your thoughts on the matter included, dearest sister. I’m eager to get your reply.” _

Her stomach turned with anxiety, and she peered up over the papers to observe her parents. Her mother was looking nervous, twisting the edge of her letter between her fingers, while her father was doing everything he could to avoid looking at her. She had a slight idea of what the news could be; she was twenty-two, unmarried, and her parents had been looking for a suitable suitor for her since her twentieth birthday- one that would not only be beneficial to their family, but also one that she would  _ like _ .

Needless to say, they hadn’t experienced any success.

“Your brother told you about the news?” her mother asked anxiously.

Kagero folded up the letter without finishing it, sat it aside, and folded her shaking hands primly in front of her like her teachers always taught. Ladylike. “No. He said you would tell me.”

Her parents looked at each other, their anxiety practically palpable, and then her father spoke. “We, uh, may have found an appropriate marriage candidate for you.”

Her guess had been exactly right. She sighed and twisted her fingers together, waiting for them to proceed.

“Actually, the high prince may have found an appropriate marriage candidate for you,” her mother corrected.

Her blood froze and she tilted her head. “The… high prince? Prince Ryoma?”

“It seems that your brother informed him that we’ve been looking for a suitable husband for you,” her mother said, “and he suggested, well-”

“He suggested his other retainer,” her father put bluntly.

Kagero’s lips turned down into a frown. “The fifth Saizo? The hot-headed idiot that Obi writes about?”

“That’s no way to speak about a Saizo,” her mother chided. “They’re very respectable men.”

“As a whole, yes.” Kagero waved the letter in her hand, doing her best to play off the terror in her gut. “But this particular Saizo is apparently stubborn, cruel, and cares only for the life of his master. Obi says that he has no regard for anyone else!”

“That’s what being a royal retainer is,” her father said. “Besides-”

Kagero barged on. “And aren’t we a little bit low-ranking for me to be a prospective marriage candidate for him?”

“We may not be a rich family, but we’ve been serving alongside every other clan for centuries,” her father reminded. “Kagero, please, this would be good for us, and for them.”

She could hear her heartbeat in her head, and it was making her physically ill. “Y-you want to shove me into an arranged marriage.”

She heard her mother sigh. “Kagero, honestly, we all know that you won’t get married unless we make you. You have no interest in anyone, and as much as we love you, you know it isn’t appropriate for you to stay with us forever.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t make me marry a pig-headed man like the fifth Saizo,” she muttered. Her head hurt, and she clutched it, ignoring the hurt look on her father’s face.

“I’m reluctant to offer up my only daughter to an arranged marriage, but this is the best for all of us.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his remaining hand. “And you can't say he's pig-headed when you've never even met him.”

“That's the point!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never even met him! All I know are the rumors and stories and all the things Obi tells me.”

“If you marry him, you'll move to Shirasagi,” her mother cut in. “You'll live with your brother and Orochi. Wouldn't that be nice?”

“That isn’t the point,” she said. “I have no wish for my marriage to be arranged.”

Her mother’s face stiffened. “It… already has been.”

* * *

Orochi twirled her hair in her fingers and kicked at the river water. “They set you up?!”

Kagero sighed and pressed her hands against her knees. “Yes. I’ll be meeting him in the next couple of days. Obi will be attending, so at least there will be something bearable to go along with all of this.”

The diviner sighed, laced her fingers together and stretched her arms above her head, then flumped down into the grass. When Kagero had frantically written her a letter the past week after she'd found out about her new circumstance, she'd written back just as quickly and promised to be there as soon as her duties would allow. Now, she made a face, like she’d eaten something incredibly sour. “I can’t believe they arranged for you to marry  _ Saizo _ .”

A knot started in her gut and she swallowed heavy. “You’ve known him since he was a child, right?”

“I almost made him wet his pants once.”

A laugh slipped out of her. “Well, at least you’ve humanized him a little for me. All I know is what Obi writes and the stories people tell about him.”

Death incarnate. A heartless man, only concerned with his lineage. A master assassin, willing to do anything and everything for the crown.

“Saizo isn’t as scary as they say,” Orochi assured. “He’s serious and grumpy, takes things waaaaay too seriously, and is as reckless as they come, but he’s not necessarily a  _ super  _ bad guy.”

Kagero peered out of the corner of her eye at her. “Oh?”

Orochi hummed, rolled her head around a little. “He is kind of a dick, though.”

“Orochi!”

“What? You can be a dick but not be a really bad guy.”

“It's your language I'm concerned about. Shouldn't a royal diviner not speak like that?”

“Lady Mikoto doesn't mind,” she said. “Which reminds me, if you do end up coming to Shirasagi, I can introduce you to Lady Mikoto and Reina.”

“Of course. All I have to do is marry a man I’ve never met.”

Orochi regarded her with pity and took her hand. Her palm was warm. Kagero remembered all the times when they were children where she had been jealous of Orochi’s long, delicate hands, perfectly suited for turning cards and burning herbs. It seemed like such a silly thing for her to be envious of now.

“Now, Kagero, don't you worry much. Plenty of people are in arranged marriages and are still happy.”

Kagero let out what felt like her billionth very long, very heavy sigh. “I still don't like this.”

“That's just fine, my sweet.”

“I don't want to get married.”

“You know, I think that might be why they felt the need to arrange an engagement.”

“But isn't that ridiculous?”

“Of course it is. Now, just take a good, deep breath...”

“Will you stay for when I have to meet him?”

“As you wish.”

* * *

 

Kagero’s mother refused to let her outside for the next couple of days, lest she get a speck of dirt on herself. She even refused to let her draw or paint for the very same reasons. She scrubbed her to perfection every morning and night, to ensure that her skin and hair were clean and glowing so that she looked “proper.”

Kagero didn’t understand the point- whether he liked her appearance or not, they were getting married anyway, and there most certainly would be times where he saw her with dirt under her nails and unwashed hair and skin. However, when she brought this up to her mother, she received a light scolding and a slap to the wrist, and so she let the topic drop and allowed her mother do whatever she wanted.

To indulge her, comfort her, on the night before the meeting, Orochi pulled her futon into Kagero’s room and put them together. Despite her protests, she clicked her tongue and snuffed out the candle, snuggled up to her friend, and petted her hair the whole night. Orochi smelled so soothing, like the forest and the river water, and she was so warm to sleep next to. Perhaps in Shirasagi, they’d be able to do this whenever they wanted. The thought put her at ease and she finally fell asleep.

Orochi woke her up in the morning with a gentle shake of her shoulders, and Kagero yawned, tired tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, before sitting up. Her stomach was already tight with anxiety, and the smell of grilled fish and fresh rice in the kitchen was making her sick. Her best kimono was set out, folded neatly next to her closet with a new hair decoration her father had bought her in a feeble apology, and all she wanted to do was throw it all out the window. She wanted to curl up with Orochi, go back to sleep, and not ever have to worry about what society wanted her to do, what her parents wanted her to do, what was best for her family.

“You must wake up. Your brother and Saizo will be here at the end of the day, but I’m sure your mother has plenty for you to do.”

Kagero rubbed a hand against her temple. “Orochi… Is this truly happening to me?”

Her normally upward lips turned down, she furrowed her brow, and she pulled Kagero to her. Her fingers found the ends of her hair and she played with them. “I-I am afraid so, my dear. But it’ll be fine. It will be fine.”

“And how are you so certain?”

“I am certain of a great many things, Kagero. You know this.”

Her fingers felt numb and her arms floppy, so Orochi helped her into a simple robe and swept her hair back for her. She couldn’t stop thinking, which was terrible, since all she wanted to do was just  _ stop _ . Kagero wanted to stop thinking, stop caring, stop feeling sick to her stomach, but her mind was letting her do anything but. 

It felt pathetic.

Kagero had never considered her house to be a messy place. Her family didn’t have servants, and it was only the three of them (though it had been four before), and none of them had any particular grudges with helping around the house, so it was always clean. But her mother had spent nearly every waking hour deep-cleaning and scrubbing every last nook and cranny, and it almost literally sparkled.

“You’re trying too hard,” she told her mother. She held Orochi’s hand a little tighter.

“I am not,” she shot back. “I’m trying the average amount.”

“My, I’d love to see what above-and-beyond looks like,” Orochi mused.

“Both of you young ladies, stop your sarcasm,” her mother snapped. “Oh, there’s so much to do… I sent your father into town to buy things for dinner, along with some soap to wash your hair with, and I also-”

“You’re trying too hard,” she repeated. “I’m going to have breakfast, and then I’m going to take a long,  _ long  _ bath, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever keeps you out of trouble,” she said.

Kagero ate half-a-bowl of rice, set it down, but finished the whole thing when Orochi urged her on. “You’ll need your strength” was her argument, but Kagero didn’t know what she was going to need her strength for. Maybe so that she wouldn’t pass out when she had to meet the infamous Saizo. Maybe so that she wouldn’t appear tired and lethargic when he arrived. In any case, it made her feel horribly sick, but her soak in the tub certainly made her feel better.

Orochi hummed a song while she ran her fingers through Kagero’s hair. In the cabinet, she had found scented oils, and she’d come to the conclusion that scrubbing them into her hair would be soothing, and it was. Kagero had always had a weakness for nice-smelling things; perfumes, flowers, oils. She focused on the calming scent to get her stomach to calm down.

“Don't you worry,” Orochi said. “I’m going to be by your side the whole time, and I’ve known Saizo long enough to know how he works. I’ll make sure everything is just fine.”

Something in her fractured, and she wanted to snap and yell at Orochi to not baby her, to stop acting like things would be fine. But then she felt Orochi dig her nails into her scalp and massage, felt a little tremor and stutter in her movements, and she snapped her mouth shut and splashed water over her face instead. Nothing good was going to come from being mean, and she was only trying to be supportive.

Kagero sat by the window, soaking in the sunlight and letting it dry her skin while Orochi pulled a comb through her hair. It would've been a peaceful moment, but her mind raced through a terrible sea of possibilities-  _ What if he hurts me? What if he expects things of me? What if my family suffers somehow? _ \- and nothing felt relaxing by any means.

“How should we do your hair tonight?” Orochi asked. The loving lilt of her voice snapped Kagero from her dismal wallow through self-pity. “Anything fancy?”

“Certainly nothing as extravagant as you wear,” Kagero responded.

“I'll have you know, my hairstyles are wonderful!”

“They’re a little ridiculous when I wear them, don’t you agree?”

Kagero tilted her head backwards as Orochi picked up thick handfuls of her hair, and eventually, the diviner relented to say, “Your hair  _ is  _ a little too thick to pin up like mine.”

“Something simple,” Kagero suggested. “Just pull it back and put my new hair decoration in it.”

“Oh, very well,” Orochi mumbled. She tangled her fingers into her hair and played with it, pulling it this way and that, then eventually decided on a simple ponytail. “A dull style, but you make everything look good.”

“You’re too kind.”

Orochi hummed and placed one more pin in her hair, then took her hand and pulled her up from the windowsill. “They’ll be here soon. Would you like to get dressed?”

She sighed and approached the kimono across the room, brushing her fingers along it. It was lovely- a simple, pitch black, with gold embroidered on the edges. A soft red robe, ruffled at the bottom, went underneath the top layer. It had once been her favorite kimono, the one she wore to every rare formal event, but now she thought it looked more like a prison garb than anything.

Kagero slid her robe off her shoulders and picked up the bottom layer. Orochi came up from behind and helped slip it over her. She tied it at the back loosely and picked the top robe off the ground to drape it on her.

Orochi tugged at the obi once more, securing it snugly below her chest, and then spun her around. Her eyes, usually such a lively violet, looked heavy and more like a meek lilac. Her lips were pulled down into a frown, and she brushed a strand of hair from Kagero’s face.

“You look even sadder than me,” Kagero teased weakly. “Perk up, please.”

Orochi pulled a smile, but it was wobbly and fake. “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a shame we have to waste it on someone like Saizo.”

Kagero winced. “Didn’t you tell me only two days before that he wasn’t a bad person?”

She sneered. “Such a simple thing does not make him worthy of you, Kagero.”

* * *

 

Orochi knelt across from Kagero and held her hands to keep her from biting her perfectly-manicured nails. Her mother paced the house, wringing her hands and occasionally checking the miso soup boiling in the kitchen, and her father sat, ever quiet, on the porch outside, his knees tucked under him. He looked almost like he was meditating.

“Any minute now, I suppose,” Orochi mumbled. Her hands wrapped tighter around Kagero’s. “Aaaany minute, my love.”

A smile pulled at Kagero’s mouth and she attempted a light-hearted conversation. “Would you say he is very handsome, my friend?”

She pursed her lips and frowned. “I can hardly remember what the whole of his face looks like, but his twin is very handsome.”

“They’re identical?”

She shook her head. “No. But there is some resemblance.”

Kagero shifted in her place and curled her toes. “I-I see.”

They waited a little longer. Kagero tried to make more small talk, but Orochi seemed even more nervous than her. Her hands, so tight around hers, were sweaty, and her eyes flickered around the room.

“You look near ready to fall over and die, Orochi,” Kagero chided. “I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous here.”

“I don’t like Saizo,” Orochi mumbled. “I don’t want to give you to him.”

She frowned. “Will he treat me badly?”

“I do not think he will  _ harm  _ you.” Orochi chewed on her lip for a moment before continuing. “But I have never seen him as the type to be a loving husband.”

The sound of a horse missed Kagero’s ears, but she jumped when she heard her father laugh. The sound of hands clasping together and a familiar voice put her at ease, and she parted from Orochi to rush outside. Her mother started to scold her, then stopped as she followed.

Her brother held the reins of a horse in one hand, and the hand of their father in the other. He looked well, tall and handsome as always, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

It was such a warm sight.

“I’ll take your horse,” their father said, and he led it away by the reins. “Catch up with your mother and sister.”

Kagero let their mother fall upon him first, smiling behind a hand as she showered his face with kisses. Obi grimaced and leaned back, but the smile on his face betrayed his delight at the affection of his mother. He didn’t escape from her grasp for another few minutes, patiently answering every question she threw at him (“Have you been eating well? Is that an injury on your arm? Have you met a nice girl? Will you give the royal family my regards when you return?”) before lowering her hands away from him.

“I’d like a moment with Kagero, Mother,” he said.

“When will our other guest be here?” she asked. “Weren’t you supposed to arrive together?”

“Saizo and Kaze told me ride ahead. They wanted me to have some personal time. I wouldn’t say they’re more than ten minute behind me.”

“Kaze is coming along?” Orochi put her hand on Kagero’s shoulder and peered at him. “Whatever for?”

Obi winced and waved their mother away. “I think he told me something along the lines of ‘I have to make sure my idiot brother doesn’t offend my new sister.’” His lips quirked into an amused expression. “I think he’s more excited to meet Kagero than Saizo is.”

He held out his arms and beckoned her forward with a motion of his fingers. Kagero slipped away from Orochi and threw her arms around him, stood on her toes to bury her face into his neck, and relished his warmth. “It’s been too long,” she said.

“Almost two years,” he added. “I wish I was able to slip away from work more frequently, but being a retainer consumes all of my time. And to think, my lord Ryoma isn’t even as needy as the second prince.”

“Oh, don’t say that about Prince Takumi,” Orochi scolded. “I know you like him plenty.”

Obi smiled and rested his hand atop Kagero’s head. “I like teasing him plenty as well.”

Her brother’s hand stroked her hair, carefully avoiding all the pins and her hair decoration, and almost all of her worries melted away. He had always had that sort of effect on her- since she could remember, he was so sweet, so gentle, so loving, and he had always protected her. So long as Obi was by her side, Kagero thought, maybe this whole affair wouldn’t be quite so terrible.

Their mother came back into the room and waved a spoon at them. “Now, stop that hugging! Kagero, you’ll get your outfit all wrinkled. Obi, go wait outside for them. You’re distracting her.”

“From what?”

“I don’t have to tell you that! You’re just distracting. Now, go!” She smacked his wrist with her spoon and drove him outside, but not before he sent one more glance at Kagero over his shoulder. He smiled reassuringly, waved, and then the door slid shut.

“Please sit down, Kagero,” her mother said. She ran her hands over her face and scrutinized it. “You look nervous. There’s nothing to be afraid of so long as your father and Obi and I are here.”

Orochi tapped her foot. “I as well?”

“And Orochi.”

Kagero smiled.

A knock came from the door, followed by Obi’s voice. “They’re here. Best finish primping Kagero, Mother.”

In response, their mother slapped Kagero’s cheeks, ushered her into the back room to wait, and left her alone with Orochi and a twisting stomach. She listened carefully, picked up the faint hints of unfamiliar voices speaking with her brother and father, and hunched down. Her fists curled up on her knees and she willed her stomach to calm.

“I feel sick,” she told Orochi.

She knelt next to her and stroked her hair. “It’s fine. We’re all here.”

“Gods Orochi, what if I vomit on him?”

“I shall laugh.”

“Orochi!”

“I shall fetch him a towel, or something. After I laugh.”

Despite everything, Kagero managed a weak laugh. Her stomach was still in knots, but something about Orochi’s rough humor was therapeutic. It always had been, and it likely always would be.

“Just think, Kagero. Even when you have to go to Shirasagi, Obi and I will be there.” Orochi continued to pet her head, and Kagero let her eyes drift shut. “And I’ll introduce you to some other friends. Prince Takumi’s retainer, Oboro, is nice… if she isn’t making a face at you. And Setsuna is a bit dim, but the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet. Hinata is a nice boy, and so is Subaki. You should avoid Azama, though.”

“Should I?”

“He’ll drive you crazy.”

The door to the house slid open, and she heard heavy footsteps. Her hands clenched over her knees and Orochi wrapped her arms around her.

“My brother hasn’t properly thanked you enough.” A man’s voice, deep, soothing, and gentle. “Forgive him for being so terribly rude.”

“I’ve said thank you three time already, Kaze.” This voice was hard, deep, gravelly, and sent a shudder down Kagero’s spine. “I’m not here to grovel.”

“Saizo!” the other man hissed. “Be polite.”

Orochi stood and made for the door. “I’m going to go set the mood, my dear.”

Kagero raised an eyebrow. “What mood is that?”

Orochi stepped outside and began sliding the door shut. “Just wait here, sweet.”

The voices were muffled, but Kagero could hear them well enough when she scooted closer to the door:

“Kaze! Saizo. Good to see both of you.”

“Orochi, you're here as well?”

“Have you come to torment me in yet another aspect of my life?”

“No no, Kagero is simply a dear childhood friend of mine. She requested I be here for the introductions.”

“I was wondering why I hadn't seen you with the queen for the past few days. Glad to know you're doing fine.”

“Oh, Kaze, aren't you just the sweetest?”

“Enough with the small talk.” Another chill raced through Kagero when he spoke. “Forgive my bluntness, but may I meet her?”

Kagero stood and nervously shifted around while her mother chattered on about how  _ great _ it was to host Saizo the Fifth and his brother, how  _ wonderful _ her daughter was, how much he would just  _ adore _ her.

Just words in the wind.

Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, and she paced about the room. She would be cordial, she resolved. Ladylike, charming, and she would smile just enough and speak when spoken to. This was for the good of her family, after all. This was her duty, just as her brother’s duty was to serve the royal family. This was just a role to play.

Kagero stepped back, moved to lean against the wall and collect herself, and then, as she heard the sharp sound of the door sliding open, remembered that the wall was, in fact, actually the door.

Her feet stumbled backwards once, her back met thin air, and she heard a startled sound, clearly from Orochi. Kagero shut her eyes and braced for the impact.

She didn’t hit the floor, however. She heard the heavy sound of feet on the floor, and then arms were wrapped around her and stopped her fall. Whoever it was let out a grunt and fell to their knees, clearly unprepared to completely catch her, and Kagero set her hands against the floor, just to ensure that it really was there and she had not fallen and cracked her skull open.

And then she opened her eyes.

Whoever it was was definitely not Orochi nor her brother. It was a person she had never seen before, with crimson hair and an eye a color to match. His other eye was closed, permanently shut by a scar that crossed over most of his face, and he looked a bit irritated, but mostly startled, perhaps just a touch bit relieved. He had her arms in his hands (which, she noted, were quite warm, maybe even hot), and her head rested in his lap.

His valid eye blinked once, then narrowed at her. “Are you fine?”

This man was, Kagero had to admit, horrifyingly attractive.

“Saizo!” Orochi hovered behind them, wringing her hands.

And her fiancé.

In a flash, she realized she was doing nothing more than laying stupidly in his lap, staring up at him like some accursed idiot, and she sat up quickly, blurting out, “Oh, gods, I’m so sorry-!”

And whacked him right in the face with her head.

Kagero had to give him credit- he made a rough sound and grimaced, immediately clutched his nose, but other than that, made no indication of pain. Her forehead throbbed from the impact and she held it, drawing her legs up to her chest and fighting the tears brought to the corners of her eyes. She looked up, found her brother holding the handle of the door and very unsuccessfully fighting a laugh, and heard the anxious sound of her mother’s voice behind both her and Saizo.

“Kagero.” A hand entered her field of vision, and she followed the length of it up to meet her father’s face. He looked mildly amused, but more concerned. She took his hand and let him yank her up, still holding her forehead, and found Saizo behind her, his nose in his hand and the man she assumed to be his brother behind him.

“Goodness.” Her mother flitted over to her and ran her hands over her face, checking for any spot of blood or blemish. “Kagero, are you-”

Obi snickered behind his hand still. “I-I’m sorry. I was going to come and get you, and-”

“I shouldn’t have been moving around so much in there,” she mumbled. “My fault.” She glanced over at Saizo- her  _ fiancé _ \- and found him checking his hand, likely for blood, but she saw none on his face. She wrung her hands together and shifted in place, finally mumbling, “Sorry.”

He took a deep breath, turned away from them, muttered something, and went outside. The door shut hard behind him, and Kagero flinched, clenching her hands at her side. Her mother’s hands on her face tightened, and she pressed her lips, glaring at her in disapproval.

“What?” she hissed. “I apologized to him.”

“You must forgive my brother.” The green-haired man stepped forward, his hands tucked politely into his sleeves, and he gave a deep bow to, no, not her father, not her mother, not even her brother, but  _ her _ . “He’s just collecting himself. He doesn’t mean to be so rude.”

Kagero stared- she couldn’t recall the last time someone had shown such respect to her herself. It felt good, if she was being honest. “Oh, it’s, uh, fine?”

He straightened back up and smiled. His eyes were a deep violet- perhaps a bit duller than Orochi’s, but still a captivating color, nonetheless, and just being in his presence was calming her nerves. “You’re Lady Kagero, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I-”

“Isn’t she just the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, Kaze?” Orochi hooked her arm through Kaze’s, grinning as she boasted and gestured at Kagero. Her stomach felt hot and she looked away, fiddling with the long sleeves of her furisode. “The wait to meet her was well worth it, correct, old friend?”

Gods, Kagero just wanted to melt into the floor and never come back up.

“Should I invite him back in?” Her mother hovered nervously near the door.

“Let him pout for a moment,” Obi replied. He crossed his arms and stood next to Kagero.

As if on queue, the door slid back open, and her mother jumped back as Saizo stalked in. She caught a good glimpse of his clothes: Black hakama and a gray haori over the white shirt, quite casual for formal wear, but from the way he lifted and arm and pulled at the edge of the sleeve, he was still uncomfortable.

He looked up from his sleeve and regarded her, a cold, curious gaze that she burned under. She swallowed, considered breaking eye contact, but decided against it. Instead, she reached under the sleeve of her robe to weakly grab at her brother’s hand, and he reached back for her, letting their fingers brush.

As soon as they did, a strange courage built in her, and she unclenched her other hand. Her mother nervously stepped forward as Kagero approached Saizo, but remained a polite distance away. She brushed past Kaze, past Orochi, not once breaking his gaze. He didn’t flinch as she stood toe-to-toe with him, but rather looked… approving? Admiring? Like he respected her.

It somewhat occurred to Kagero as she opened her mouth that this was her future husband, that she had not even been properly introduced to him, that she was probably going to regret what she was going to say as soon as she said it, and that her mother and father would give her an earful, but she didn’t care.

“May I be honest, sir?” she asked. She was close enough that she could smell him- strong and earthy, like warm wood. One of his eyebrows lifted and his mouth twitched, but she couldn’t tell if it was towards something like a grimace or an amused smile.

Saizo dipped his head towards her. “Of course.”

She ran her tongue over her lips, carefully selecting her next words. “I find this whole matter ridiculous, and I have no desire to marry you.”

Saizo blinked. Her mother’s hand was on her arm suddenly, squeezing almost painfully, and the presence of her father loomed behind her. An amused snort came from Orochi behind her, and the weight of what Kagero had just said fully settled on her.

Her fiancé ran a hand through his hair (she remembered, for no particular reason, how warm his hands had been on her arms minutes before), and huffed. “The feeling is mutual.”

* * *

 

To say that dinner passed by awkwardly would be an understatement.  Her mother, normally so sweet and calm, practically fumed at Kagero as she served the food, but offered gentle smiles to Saizo. Kaze, on the other side of Saizo, often leaned over to speak kindly to her or offer reassuring smiles, and Obi on her other side often sent worried looks her ways. Her father’s expression on the opposite side of the table was tight, perhaps a little angry, and it made Kagero nervous- she had never had a hard time reading her father before.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Kaze said to her father as the table was cleared, “how did you lose your arm?”

Kagero flinched and Obi laughed nervously.

“Kaze,” Saizo warned.

“It’s fine,” her father said, but he still cast a glance his wife’s way. She kept her back to them as she rearranged the dishes in the kitchen, but her shoulders were stiff. “I went out to the border to help with the skirmishes there some fifteen years ago. I was captured, and lost my arm during torture.”

Kagero watched as Kaze winced. Saizo remained stoic, but offered a bow of his head and a “Thank you for your service.”

Quiet settled over the room, and Kagero nervously tapped her fingers along the table. Just looking at Saizo still made her anxious, but now his presence loomed huge next to her. Hot. Unyielding. His hands on the table appeared rough and calloused, likely from holding weapons, and something stirred in her stomach. Anxiety, she assumed.

She wondered, briefly, if he would treat her well. If he would ever hurt her. From what Obi had told her, he didn’t seem the type, but she just  _ didn’t know _ . Marrying a total stranger was, in theory, already terrifying, but having that total stranger next to her was even more so.

Finally, it was too much. Obi glanced up at her in surprise as she stood suddenly and made for the door.

“Kagero?” her mother called out. “Don't you-”

“I just need half a moment,” she sent back. She felt Saizo’s eye burning into her back, all the way until she was out of the room, out of the house, and she sighed with relief as she sat on the porch.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

Her head whipped around, and Kaze stood in the doorway, his face still stuck in that soothing smile. She hesitated a moment, tossing around possible ways to tell her soon-to-be-brother-in-law “no,” but found no polite manner to do so. So, she nodded at the space next to her, and Kaze tucked his knees under him and sat.

They sat in the silence, listening to the faint chirping of crickets. The very first fireflies of the year, a sure sign of the approaching summer, hovered above the koi pond. Their lights danced on the water and caught on the wet grass near the surface. If her heart hadn't been beating a million times per minute, Kagero would have enjoyed it much more.

“You weren't scared when I snuck up on you like that,” said Kaze. He turned to give her a different kind of smile, one more reminiscent of a cat’s. Playful, teasing.

“My family are ninja,” she reminded. “And I’ve had the training myself.”

He looked impressed. “You have?”

She squirmed a little in her place, wondering if she should have admitted that. “Nothing so extreme as what they teach in Shirasagi or ninja villages, but I wanted to learn. So my father taught me.”

Kaze looked back to the fireflies dancing above the koi. “Obi never mentioned that.” He dug around the folds of his clothing for a moment, and then held a kunai out to her, handle first. “Could I see you throw this, please? I’m interested to see your skill level.”

“It’s nothing impressive, sir, I assure-”

“You are to be my sister, Lady Kagero. Please, don't call me that.” Kaze pushed the handle of the kunai towards her again, more insistently, and, with a defeated sigh, Kagero took it. It was heavy, but felt like an extension of her arm. Her mother would have a heart attack if she ever admitted aloud to the weapon feeling just as at home in her hand as a paintbrush or sewing needle.

“I’m going to hit that tree,” Kagero told him. She pointed to a tall oak right across from the pond. It was a decent ways away, but still close enough that she wouldn't exactly be showing off if she hit the mark.

“By all means.”

He’d just finished saying “means” when Kagero threw the blade. The warm metal slid out of her fingers, the tip whistled through the air as it flew, and she felt satisfied, like her stress was melting away, as it hit the tree and stuck.

A low whistle left Kaze after a tense few seconds. “Amazing. You have better aim and poise than most ninja I’m acquainted with, Lady Kagero.”

Her cheeks felt hot, and she fingered a strand of hair busily. “You falsely flatter me.”

“No, I’m quite serious.” Kaze stood and leaned over the railing, peering for a better look. “I don't offer that compliment to you lightly.”

Kaze spoke so different from Saizo. If Saizo’s manner was like a wildfire, Kaze’s was the wind on a clean, fresh day. Soft, strong, and soothing. Where Saizo’s shoulders were tense and his expression irritable, Kaze’s body was relaxed and his smile easy.

“Are you really brothers?” she asked.

Kaze looked down at her in mild surprise, and she bit her tongue and berated herself until he laughed.

“I know we don't seem like it,” he admitted. “In truth, I am not that close to my brother. Whenever Obi mentions you, I envy the bond you two share.”

Kagero stood and joined him against the wooden railing. The crickets seemed to grow louder by the minute as the stars shone brighter. While she had initially thought them to look nothing alike, now she saw similarities from this close: The curve of their jawlines, the shape of their eyes, the slope of their nose, even the texture of their hair.

“I’ll warn you,” Kaze started suddenly, “my elder brother is emotionally clumsy. He gets angry easily, and he doesn’t know how to properly interact with people. He’s essentially married to his job as Prince Ryoma’s retainer, and nothing else matters.”

Kagero winced. “So I can expect to be neglected?”

He shook his head. “No. When you marry, I think you can expect him to take care of you. He does not do things by halves, and while I don’t think he’s exactly made to be a good sort of husband, he’ll be doing his best.”

She leaned over the railing, wistfully staring out at the pond. It had been one of her favorite spots since she was a child, and she would miss sitting with her father and meditating at its shore, painting it with her mother. She had been to Shirasagi all of twice in her life, and she wondered how city life would suit her. Would there be these peaceful spots?

“Rest assured, Lady Kagero.” Kaze rested a hand on her shoulder, and she found it in herself to give him a smile. “If he does a single thing to harm you, physically or emotionally, you let me know. I’ll set him straight.”

She turned back to the koi pond, and her heart had stopped pounding. “Please, just call me Kagero.”

* * *

 

Saizo was in one hell of a hot mess, and he blamed his stupid, happy-go-lucky moron of a partner. 

He sat on the porch of the house, resting his face in his hands as he listened to the crickets. His fianceé had taken off right after the meal, Kaze had followed, and Orochi would simply not stop glaring at him, so he’d left for fresh air.

Saizo had to admit, he liked her family. Her mother was kind, though obviously trying much too hard to impress him (she reminded him a little bit of his own mother), and her father had been a respected ninja, active in the army until the Nohrians had taken his arm years ago. Obi had been his partner for five years now, and he liked him well enough, when he didn’t want to wring his neck.

And the girl, Kagero, she was pretty. Catching her earlier had been all instinct, but it had given him the opportunity to look at her, and he would be lying if he said his heart hadn’t caught in his chest for a second or two. Those sharp brown eyes, thick black hair, and her skin under his hands had been as smooth as silk, a distinct contrast from his own scarred and messy flesh.

He just didn’t want to  _ marry  _ her.

The door slid open behind him, followed by, “What’s eating at you?”

“Go to hell,” Saizo spat as Obi walked out of the house.

His partner lifted an eyebrow and turned, leaning his back against the railing. “Why don’t I ever just get a normal ‘hello?’”

“I blame you for this whole stupid mess,” Saizo snapped. “If you had just kept your mouth shut to Lord Ryoma about your parents trying to marry off your sister, then-”

“It’s not like I wanted him to suggest matching the two of you together,” he shot back. His bright green eyes narrowed, and he looked uncharacteristically upset. “I was having a friendly conversation with him, casually mentioned her, and then, suddenly, you’re engaged to my little sister! And now, here we are, and I’ve accidentally shoved my only sibling into a marriage with a total stranger.”

Saizo snapped his mouth shut and set his jaw, angrily looking out towards the fields. While it wasn’t quite like Igasato, he appreciated the remoteness of the home. It put him a bit at ease, but he still felt like a fire was raging through him. It had started when Lord Ryoma had said he should marry Obi’s sister, for purposes beneficial to both of their families, and it hadn’t stopped, and he just wasn’t sure when it would.

“I hated my parents trying to put Kagero into an arranged marriage,” Obi continued. “It’s unfair. She’s never wanted to get married, and now, it’s all my fault. And I was the one most against it.” He sighed and hung his head. “And you-”

“I have to get married,” he replied gruffly. “Even if I don’t want to.”

“Gotta carry on the Saizo name, blah blah blah.” The other man hung his head back and sighed to the sky. “I swear, if you even try to use my sister as some sort of tool to carry on your family legacy, I swear, I’ll-”

“Gods, Obi, do you really think I’d ever make a woman do something she didn’t want to?!”

Silence for a minute. “No. I’m sorry. That was very rude of me to insinuate.”

Saizo tapped his fingers against the wood, his scowl lightening. “Apology accepted.”

He heard the faint rumble of Kaze’s voice from across the house, though he couldn’t make out the words. That was fine, though- Saizo didn’t need to know what sort of unflattering things about him he was saying to his future sister-in-law. It was none of his business, and, more importantly, he flat-out did not care.

“You’ll treat her okay?” Obi asked quietly. He turned and leaned on the railing, staring out like Saizo.

He scratched the wood underneath a nail, anxiety churning in him. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s good. Because, if you ever even thought about doing something as dumb as hurting her”- Obi slammed a hand on his shoulder hard enough that Saizo winced- “I would tear you limb from limb, you hear me?”

A shudder rolled up his spine. “S-sure. Yeah.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sake burned Kagero's stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ALMOST 2 MONTHS LATE IM REALLY SORRY... i've been trying making, like, full outlines for my stories to see how that affects my writing??? if it helps me write cleaner and faster?? so i've been working on the outline for this, and i've got the first nine chapters kinda planned out. i wanted to get this out, though, so i didn't keep people waiting any longer.  
> thank you all so much for the support i received, and only on the first chapter no less- wow!! im so excited!! the fe fandom is so nice holy heck. i also wanted to mention that my tumblr is www.saigero.tumblr.com (BEST URL) and my twitter is @raijinshuus. i post wips, answer questions, and talk about my fics and writing processes in both places (twitter more frequently, though), and also post my edits and things if you want to follow me there!  
> thank you again, and here's the second chapter of looking at you

The sake burned Kagero’s throat, and she struggled to not cough on it. She suddenly remembered the first time that she had ever had sake, when her father had let her and Orochi try some at a festival when they were kids, and they’d spent ten minutes struggling to breathe again. Over the years, she’d come to appreciate the cool, clean taste of it, but now, she felt like that child again, choking and fighting back tears.

Fortunately, the burn faded quickly, but it left her with a twisting in her gut again, a feeling that hadn’t gone away since she’d woken up. Orochi had given her some medicine and a few words of reassurance to help, but she found it was doing very little to help her now, kneeling at the shrine with a near-stranger, whom she was certain felt just as anxious and displeased as she herself did.

Saizo had told her she looked quite pretty in her wedding kimono before the ceremony started, and she knew that he meant it, but the feeling between them was still tense and bland, if she had to find the words to describe it. A quiet “thank you” was all she offered up in return, and then her father had come over to sweep her away from him for a quick talk. She barely remembered what it was about.

Kagero was certain that Saizo, despite the fact that he was almost definitely feeling just the same as her, looked much more put together and composed. She would be even more certain if she could just look at him, but even as she passed the sake cup back over, she couldn’t bring her eyes to meet his. Her mind raced through a dozen possibilities about what would happen if she did: She would faint, she would cry, she would run out of the room, she would tell the priest right then and there that she wanted nothing to do with any of this, and then what? None of those things were viable options for her.

So, she took a deep breath, folded her hands over her knees, and blankly repeated the vows.

She averted her eyes towards the gleaming gold embellishing the shrine and caught a tiny glimpse of her brother in the reflection. He had his head bowed, and perhaps it was the reflection twisting him, but she thought his shoulders looked tense. He had made it clear in the past month, through every single wedding preparation, that he was not entirely pleased with how things were working out.

Neither was she. Maybe great minds really did think alike.

The last round of vows came along, and the priest looked at her expectantly. Kagero was supposed to take Saizo’s hand, promise to uphold the vows, and everyone was waiting. She heard the rustle of clothing behind her- her mother was shifting anxiously in her spot, possibly reaching for her own husband’s hand. The room was deathly quiet, and she could hear her own heartbeat, fast-paced and loud, beating erratically like a haphazard drum.

Kagero’s hand shook as she lifted it from her knee to offer it. The sake in her stomach sloshed and threatened to come back up, but she forced herself to remain calm. As her hand reached halfway between them, his came up and wrapped around hers, and he held it politely- or maybe reluctantly? She flinched, and slowly, slowly, let her eyes travel up past his throat, up his jawline, and she finally met his eye as he looked at her warily.

Saizo offered her hand a squeeze, and she swallowed and gripped her knee even tighter.

As the priest finished his speech, wrapped up the vows, and Kagero uttered a shaky, “I promise” when asked if she would upkeep them, she heard a faint sniffle from her mother, and a wave of resentment washed over her. However, as soon as it came, it left. This was just her mother trying to do the right thing. She wasn’t trying to punish her by putting her into a marriage.

The ceremony closed and Saizo dropped her hand.

The sake burned Kagero’s stomach.

* * *

 

The robes of Kagero’s kimono felt stifling, though they were, in actuality, made light and flowy for the summer. Maybe what was really stifling were the arms of her mother tossed around her neck, or the stiff congratulations of people she barely or didn't know, or maybe it was Saizo’s presence near her, heavy and burning.

Whatever it was, Kagero wanted a drink.

Obi’s smile looked more like a grimace of pain than anything as he offered a congratulations. Kagero frowned as she met his eyes, and she took his hand in hers as some sort of comfort. His skin was pale, but other than that and his grimace, he kept himself composed very well.

“Obi, stop monopolizing the bride,” their mother chided.

He laughed- short and harsh, more like a bark than his usual, bubbling fits, and pulled his hand away from her. “Alright, fine. But I do have something…” He patted around his body a few times, searching the folds of his clothes, then let out a triumphant “aha!” as he found what he was looking for. He pulled a thick pouch made of silk out of his coat and held it out for Kagero to see.

“What is this?” she asked.

“A present. Saizo!” 

Obi waved her-  _ ugh _ \- new husband over from speaking with Kaze and another few men. Saizo glanced over, his eye lingering on Kagero until she shuddered, and excused himself from the conversation. He crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow, and Kagero looked up at him warily.

“What is it?” His voice was gruff, but not entirely unpleasant to listen to; she would give him that much.

“This is yours.” Obi tossed the silk pouch. “Lord Ryoma wished he could have attended, but sudden business came up. He sent this as way of apology to you and your-” He stopped suddenly, lips twitching as he obviously rolled the next word around his mouth. “Bride.”

Kagero heard the clink of metal as Saizo slipped open the pouch, and knew what it was before he even said, “Money?”

“The prince is awkward,” Obi said. He looked amused rather than aggrieved, and it made her a bit at ease. “Besides the new rooms he's had set up for you in the castle, it was the only present he could think of.”

Kagero folded her hands together and gave a quick bow to her brother. Polite. Formal. Proper. “Tell him we’re very grateful for this gift.”

Obi scratched the back of his head. “You could tell him yourself. I’ll introduce you.”

“You can't just ‘introduce’ her,” Saizo mumbled.

Kagero shot him a look, irritatedly noting his peeved expression. Did he think her unworthy of meeting the prince? Granted, it wasn't as though she had any right or privilege, but the way he said it grated on her nerves.

“And why, pray tell, is that?” Obi asked, annoyed in equal amount.

Saizo huffed and looked down at her, back at Obi, and then turned away. He held the pouch tightly in his hand and returned to his brother and the others he'd been speaking with, not a single word more for them. Kagero glared after him, a frown on her face.

“Don't take it personally,” Obi tried to assure her. “Lord Ryoma is tantamount to a god to Saizo, that's all. He didn't mean you any personal offense.” He scrunched his nose. “I think.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at Saizo’s back. “How comforting.”

Obi’s sighed and he took her arm in his. Their mother protested a bit as he led her away, but she stopped, apparently taking interest in something else. He guided her across the room, tightening his grip on her when they came to large groups of people who clustered to give their enthusiastic congratulations, and she gripped him back.

Kagero barely knew any of these people, and it made her stomach turn. She hadn’t seen Orochi since the morning- non-relatives were not allowed in traditional ceremonies. The only other person she felt comfortable with, Kaze, had been keeping his brother and guests busy. She saw a few neighbors here and there, but they had never paid her much mind, and she only paid them likewise.

“Deep breaths,” her brother reminded her. “It won’t do any good to not breathe. You’d be embarrassed if you fainted, right?”

Her knees already felt weak, but she didn’t tell him that, instead taking a deep, deep breath. She cleared her mind, tried to go somewhere else, but the glaring shine of the ornate room distracted her- the glistening, smooth stone floors, the intricately embellished walls, the lamps hanging above, they all felt like they were closing in around her.

She froze and tried to keep her hands from shaking.

“There you are!”

Kagero’s eyes flew open in a heartbeat, and she released her brother to fall into Orochi’s outstretched arms.

* * *

 

Saizo stored the silk pouch in a fold of his robes, his jaw clenched tight as he glared at the man in front of him. Kaze hovered a bit nervously at his side, and Hinata was starting to gradually lean away from the group. Subaki had left while he was gone, off talking with the girl and her brother, and it was no wonder why.

He narrowed his eyes at Azama.

Azama smiled back, coy as a cat.

“Oh, I did  _ not  _ invite you to my wedding,” he snapped.

Azama laughed and shook his head. Saizo was surprised to see that he had actually dressed properly for the event, adorned in the most formal robes a monk was allowed to wear, but the sound of the beads rustling together while he chortled made Saizo want only to punch him in the face and force him to stop. Somehow, the thought of brutalizing Azama put him at some sort of ease. He thought of it some more.

“I didn’t invite you,” he repeated, and Kaze put a hand on his arm warningly.

“Oh, but the lady’s brother did,” Azama said, and his smile grew wider as his eyes narrowed mischievously. “Provided that I agreed to remain a minimum of twenty feet from her at all times.”

Hinata let out a sharp bark of laughter, but composed himself and hid it in a cough when Saizo snapped his head to glare at him. His eye roved over the room, landing on Obi guiding his sister around, and he wondered if it was okay to pummel his brother-in-law a little harder than usual during practice.

Saizo wasn’t religious at all, not like Kaze had a tendency to be, but he found a prayer-  _ Gods,  _ please  _ give me patience _ \- pressing to get past his lips as Azama rubbed his hands together and plotted something.

“Really now, Saizo, you got quite the catch,” Azama announced. “Clearly, I wasn’t able to get a good, close look at the young lady, as per my agreement, but it does look like you scored way out of your league.”

Kaze grabbed Saizo’s arm and pulled him back with a warning “Brother!”

_ Gods, please please  _ please _ , give me patience _ .

* * *

 

Orochi smelled like her best perfume, and it set Kagero’s anxiety at ease, after it had been spinning and spinning for what felt like eons without stop. When she pulled back, Orochi smiled and rested her palms on Kagero’s cheeks, but the smile was stretched and heavy. Her dour expression went poorly with her vivid purple kimono.

“Exciting day,” Orochi said from between her teeth, and Kagero laughed. It made her feel lighter, somehow.

“There are more people than I thought there would be,” Kagero said, and she turned to wave her brother a goodbye as a noblewoman pulled him away from her. “Is this ceremony really that big of a deal?”

Orochi lowered her hands from her face and put them on her shoulders, pulling her out of the way of someone who had obviously had one cup too many of alcohol. “Well, besides it being the wedding of a Saizo, he is a retainer, and that of the High Prince, no less. Lots of people thought the prince himself would be here, so they came to try and butter him up.”

Kagero smoothed a hand over her obi, fixing a crease that had been bothering her. “Is the prince an easily manipulated man?”

She snorted. “No, but the nobles think themselves very clever.”

Orochi kept her preoccupied for the next hour, and she had never been more grateful for her company. She told long, overly-drawn-out stories, contested with a young woman, whom she introduced as Kazahana (“Call me Hana,” the girl interjected), to see who could fit more mochi in their mouth. Hana nearly won, and had the general support of the crowd around them, but a gentleman with burnt red hair walked up behind her and scolded her, and she spit nearly every piece of the confection into her hand to hide it behind her back.

“Are you sure you won’t drink?” Orochi asked her, offering a cup.

Kagero put up her hand as they walked away from Hana picking up the mochi from the ground, and felt the sake stirring in her stomach again. “No, thank you. I think I’ll be very sick if I drink.”

The diviner shrugged and threw back the shot, and the burn on her face started to become evident. She leaned against Kagero as they walked through the room, and the bride noted, with great relief, that many of the strangers had left while she was distracted. Now, she could easily see her mother and father at the head of the room, and her brother standing, obviously bored, at the exit to see people off.

Her eyes roved over the room as Orochi took another shot, and she winced when they landed on Saizo, standing in a group. A man with bushy brown hair was hovering near him, apparently chatting his ear off, while Kaze entertained other guests in the circle.

A chill rushed up her back as Saizo turned his head slightly towards her, and she turned around, the cup of sake sloshing around her gut furiously now. She urged her anxiety down, the nausea and fear, and focused on getting Orochi to a seat against the wall.

“I’m not that drunk,” Orochi protested as she sat, but her face was flushed and her words came haltingly and slow.

“Not yet, but if you have one more drink, that’ll do it,” she scolded. “Do you want me to bring you some water, Orochi?”

She hunched over and laughed. “The bride, running an errand for me on her big day? Don’t be so absurd, my love. I can get it myself.”

Kagero swallowed, struggled to not flinch at the harsh feeling “bride” gave her, and the drunk gleam in Orochi’s eyes faded instantly. She reached up and took her hand in hers, and whispered a sheepish “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled back.

A brief silence sat between them, and then Orochi perked up as she gazed over Kagero’s shoulder. She lifted a hand and waved furiously, a large smile bursting on her face.

“Reina! Reina, we’re over here!”

Kagero pressed her hands together and turned, her lips pressed in confusion. Behind her was a group of people, but coming out of them was a tall, elegant woman dressed in silver and gold, and she was struck at how lovely and poised she was. Her dark blue hair was tied neatly over her shoulder, and her hands at her sides were long and smooth, but the most striking thing about her was the perfectly shaped scar crossing across her face.

Orochi stood abruptly, wobbled, and leaned against Kagero, but she seemed more sober than she had minutes before. “Reina, over here!”

“I see you, I see you,” the woman assured, and as she stopped in front of them, Kagero was drawn into the vivid purple of her eyes.

Orochi grabbed her hand and gestured to the woman. “Kagero, this is Reina. She’s been my partner since I was a kid.”

“You are-” Kagero swallowed and suddenly recalled every letter Orochi had sent her that had mentioned this woman. Her love for gore and violence, the sheer delight she took in slaughter, the uncountable legions of Nohrian soldiers she’d crushed under her foot, and her unparalleled skill with a bow and naginata. 

Saizo suddenly seemed as harmless as a kitten.

“You are Reina,” she finally choked out, and she forced a wobbly smile onto her face and extended a hand. “Orochi has written about you for many years.”

Reina regarded her hand for a moment, then gave Kagero the sweetest, warmest smile she had ever seen. She reached out her hand, and revealed that they were not only long and elegant, but also laced with scars, burn marks, and little marks that looked like lightning bolts, all racing up to hide behind her sleeves.

“Oh my,” Kagero said, and then bit her tongue a second later.

Reina blinked and then laughed. “I had a nasty run-in with some Nohrian mages back when I was still a Pegasus Knight. If our healers were any less, I would have lost my hands!”

Orochi waved eagerly at Reina again, once more capturing Kagero’s attention. “And do you know where she got that scar on her face from?”

Reina flushed to her ears. “Oh, please, it isn’t so impressive-”

“King Garon himself!” Orochi continued. “During a squabble at the Bottomless Canyon a few years ago.”

Her stomach dropped and she looked back to Reina. “Truly?”

The older woman rubbed the back of her neck, clearly embarrassed. “It wasn’t any sort of fight, really. I tried to get him from behind, but he was fast for an old bastard. A cut here, a cut there, and he was quite done with me.”

Kagero released her hand and stared at her, awe washing over her. “That’s amazing.”

Reina gave a breathy, nervous laugh, then composed herself. “You’re Kagero, correct? The star of tonight’s show?”

She grimaced and folded her arms behind her back. “Well… I suppose.”

Reina’s smile slipped briefly, but then she righted it. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Reina, a Kinshi Knight, and retainer to the queen Mikoto. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance after all these years.”

Kagero smiled slightly. “You know of me?”

“Oh, please, Orochi hardly ever stopped talking about you when she was a child. It was always ‘Kagero-this’ and ‘Kagero-that.’”

“Hush now!” Orochi hissed, her hand suddenly on Reina’s arm.

Reina laughed and clapped a hand onto Kagero’s shoulder, and she noted that the grip was so tight it almost hurt. “Now, what’s a bride doing sounding so put-out on her wedding day?”

Kagero frowned and rubbed at her arm, turning the soft silk between her fingers. “It was an arranged marriage.”

Her smile fell in a heartbeat and she pursed her lips. “Really? So the rumors around court were true. My apologies if I was insensitive towards you.”

She grabbed the silk a little harder and wondered if it would rip. Her mother would just love that. “No, it’s fine. I-I should get over it.”

“Nonsense,” Reina chided. “If it upsets you, then it upsets you. There’s nothing to ‘get over.’”

“But it’s my situation now,” she said. Her knuckles turned white. “I have to adjust.”

The thought of adjusting made her feel dizzy.

“Perhaps,” Reina conceded. “I’ve never been a romantic sort, so my advice may be skewed. But, you do have my sympathies.” She reached out and pulled a strand of hair from Kagero’s face. Her touch was warm. “I hope that we can all make your stay in Shirasagi bearable, Lady Kagero.”

A smile found its way onto Kagero’s face.

If only for a moment, she forgot about her wedding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She inched forward, like a wary deer that he and Kaze had used to feed in the mountains, and he thought for a brief moment that her hesitation at such a harmless gesture was somewhat… cute.  
> There. He said it.  
> He hoped that the Dawn Dragon would smite him then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO i finished the outline to looking at you!!! hopefully this means that i'll get chapters of a better quality out more frequently!! i'm also working on two other projects right now-- a post-birthright story, and i also have a modern au series i've posted the first chapter of, and it'll include saigero and a lot of other pairings!  
> 

Shirasagi was very beautiful, if you asked Kagero. A city stretched for what seemed like miles when you looked at it from the very top floor of the castle. It had colorful roofs, finely furnished shops, and people bustling about, all happy and content. Orochi had taken her out into the town the day after the move, and though it had been overwhelming, it would be amiss for Kagero to say that she hadn’t liked it very much.

Shirasagi Castle was very beautiful, too. A collection of towers, all stretched up towards the heavens, not a single inch of it without ornate decoration. It was so large, she found, that most halls, even some floors, seemed completely empty, except for when court was in session. The solitude made it easier to sit and admire the paintings hanging on the walls.

What Kagero did not like about Shirasagi was her new lifestyle. Saizo. Their rooms. Their marriage.

It made her angry.

The rooms were lovely, no doubt, the high prince had made sure of that. Much finer than anything she’d had back home, but she still preferred her old room, lined with her perfume bottles and jars of pigments, her brushes scattered on the floor, her blocks of wood and carving tools stacked atop one another, her collections of letters from her brother and Orochi tucked safely beneath her pillow.

Her new rooms were clean. Almost unbearably so. Saizo had no possessions of note, and Kagero was too afraid to move her art supplies or great personal possessions into the room, though she had no reason to be. Maybe, deep down, she felt like moving everything she loved into her new rooms would be an act of true resignation. Maybe she felt afraid to make the rooms her own.

Whatever it was, it made her angry. The clean rooms made her angry. The almost pitying looks from Orochi and Kaze made her angry.

Saizo barely ever looked at Kagero. That made her angry, too.

When they had moved in, he’d shown her to her room, separate from his. He woke up before her, took his meals separate from her, and lurked back into their rooms long after she was asleep. She’d maybe seen him a handful of times since the wedding, maybe said three words to him, and she had the feeling that he was deliberately avoiding her.

Perhaps it was better than the alternative, though. Kagero had heard stories about arranged marriages where one party preferred the opposite route, forcing themselves and their affections on the other instead of ignoring them.

Saizo had never tried to touch her. Didn’t even seem to want to acknowledge her existence.

Perhaps, Kagero thought as she woke up one morning, she should count her blessings, rather than being bitter.

She threw the covers off the futon, yawned, and then flumped back down, staring at the ceiling. Morning light filtered into the room through the window along with crisp, clean summer air. She sighed, a pang of longing for the smell of her honeysuckle bushes blooming back home striking her.

She wondered what she should do to fill up the day. A month had passed, and she still hadn’t managed to explore every floor of the castle. She would get hung up on the paintings and statues on one floor and forget to go up to the next one. Maybe she could go up and study more art. Or, maybe she could go and see about the castle’s training grounds. The last time she had practiced throwing shuriken or did even basic exercise was before the wedding, and staying out of shape would do her no good.

She got up, yawned once more, and found a bowl of rice, a side of fish, and serving of soup on the table when she left her room. Her breakfast always showed up mysteriously, and whether it was Saizo who left it or a servant, she didn’t know. She was grateful, regardless of whoever it was.

She finished the rice and fish and took the bowl of soup over to the window, gazing out as she sipped it. There were rather lovely gardens down there, and she still hadn’t explored them yet. The weather was fine enough that day that she could probably take a sketchpad down with her and draw for a few hours without getting too hot. Orochi had always bragged about how incredible the castle’s gardens were since they were children, and now seemed as good a time as any to see if she was right.

A cool breeze rustled the patches of long grass as Kagero entered one of the gardens. She shut the gate behind her, double checked that it was properly secured, and took in the sights around her: Elegant water features, trees with their branches hung low over ponds, plush green grass, and flowers of every conceivable color.

Never in her life had she seen a place so beautiful. Kagero reminded herself to breathe before venturing deeper.

Had it not been for the castle’s towers, looming above the line of the trees, she could have forgotten that she was only wandering the castle grounds, not traipsing through some mystical forest. Birds sang in the trees, a few small critters dashed past her from time to time, and she wondered just how much dedication it took the gardeners to keep not only this garden, but many of the others, so pristine and genuine.

Her fingers brushed over the surface of a bush, and she ran the velvety petals of a red flower between them. She plucked the flower eventually, holding it up to the filtered sunlight and wondering if there was a way to extract its pigment.

The sound of footsteps and a woman calling out, “Oh! Hello!” startled Kagero, and she dropped the flower abruptly, her face hot as she wondered if she was in trouble for ruining the property.

The woman rushing towards her, however, the skirts of her fine, layered kimono hiked up in her hands, looked just the opposite of upset. Her face glowed with serenity, genuine excitement, and she looked youthful and lovely with her long, pitch black hair streaming behind her. She was absolutely beautiful, and based on her clothes, most certainly had to be some sort of noblewoman.

The sun. Kagero was definitely, absolutely looking at the sun.

“Hello!” the woman called out again as she drew closer. “Forgive me for startling you before, but I--!”

The woman’s feet caught in her skirts, she yipped, and then Kagero was looking at the sun, lying face first on the ground.

“Are you alright?” she asked, hurrying over and bending down to help the woman. She reached up, embarrassment plain on her face, and the skin was rough on the tips of her fingers-- she could’ve be an archer, perhaps.

“How mortifying,” the woman said, and she beat her skirts out to dispel dust when Kagero let go of her. “I do try not to do anything silly in front of people I don’t know, but, well. Here we are.”

Kagero smiled as the woman fixed her hair. “I saw nothing.”

The woman smiled right back. “Thank you. I would be absolutely embarrassed if anyone from court knew I tripped on my own skirts. They still haven’t forgotten that incident with the fountain…”

Kagero stepped back towards the bushes, remembering herself. This was obviously a woman of greater status than her, and it wouldn’t be polite to remain so close to her. It had probably been presumptuous to have even offered her a hand, and she wondered just how much her mother would panic if she were there with them.

The woman pushed one last lock of hair behind her ear and looked as though nothing had ever happened, except for the blotch of dirt at the bottom of her kimono. “I’m so sorry for that. Are you Lady Kagero?”

She tightened her grip on her bag. “I am. You know of me?”

The woman reached out her hands, placing them on either side of Kagero’s face. “Orochi has been my retainer since she was just a little girl, and she never stops talking about you. And besides, you’re all the buzz around here! Nobody thought that our prickly Saizo would ever marry.”

Kagero stomach dropped down down down, all the way to her feet, and she was certain that she had paled considerably, based on the way the woman looked at her.

“Did I say something wrong?” the woman asked. “I-- I am sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken so casually about your marriage. I know that it was-”

It was hard to do in her skirts, but Kagero dropped down to her knee, the way she’d seen her father and brother do. Her heart hammered in her ears, and her tongue felt much too dry. “Y-Your Highness! I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you!”

Queen Mikoto said nothing for a long moment, and Kagero waited anxiously, watching the queen’s skirts sway in the slight breeze. Such fine robes, such beauty, and Kagero had not suspected at all that this woman was anything more than just a noble.

The queen laughed suddenly, leaning down and tugging on Kagero’s shoulders, urging her upward. Her touch felt warm and soothing, and she warily got to her feet. She dug her fingers into the skirts of her kimono, lowered her head, and waited for Mikoto to stop giggling.

“Oh, no, I am sorry! I should have introduced myself. My husband always used to tell me that I am airheaded when it comes to formalities.”

The queen’s eyes were a warm brown when Kagero worked up the courage to look into them again. Everything about the queen was as exquisite as Orochi had written: Her long, smooth hair, the delicate curve of her lashes, the light makeup brushed over her eyelids.

She blinked and looked back to the ground. Staring at the sun for too long hurt.

Mikoto rested her hands on her face again, and Kagero fought the urge to leap out of her skin. “I heard you’d come down here, so I came to get a good look at you. I’ve been trying to make time since you came, but I’ve been so terribly busy with trade negotiations this month.”

The queen tugged and pulled at Kagero’s face, tilting her head back and forth, and narrowing her own eyes occasionally. After a long minute of examination, she let go, and Kagero rubbed at her flushed cheeks.

“Well, you are quite the beauty.” Mikoto smiled and folded her hands together. “Her love of exaggeration is something Orochi has never grown out of, but she seems to have spoken plainly in regards to you! What a cute girl you are.”

Kagero didn’t think it was possible for her face to go even redder, but it seemed as though it could. “Oh my. Thank you, Your Majesty. I-- I haven’t a clue what to say.”

Mikoto eased herself down onto a bench nearby, patting the space next to her invitingly. The shade of the tree tempted tempted her, along with the sweet upturn of the queen’s lips, and Kagero carefully settled down next to her. A stream babbled behind them, water tripping over the pebbles, and she relished the peace.

“Now, you have my apologies,” Mikoto said, and she looked suddenly saddened. “I know you don’t want to be here, and it’s my eldest who’s caused this trouble for you. I’ve never known him to get involved in people’s personal lives greatly, but he cares a great deal for Saizo. I know he was just trying to help his retainer, but-”

“I do not blame the high prince,” Kagero assured quickly. “If there is anyone to blame for this, it’s my own parents for not consulting me before accepting the proposal.”

A sigh left Mikoto. “They didn’t ask you at all if you were alright with it? I can’t imagine giving away any of my children without asking them.”

Something gripped Kagero, but it was not anger towards her parents, nor was it bitterness. She didn’t know what it is, but it made her throat close up for a brief moment. “My family isn’t of a high noble house. My being here in this marriage is the most beneficial thing for us in the long run, I suppose.” Her eyes narrowed and she focused on her hands in her lap. “I won’t complain.”

The stream flowed quietly behind them.

“Well,” Mikoto began again. “You are welcome to my company any time, Lady Kagero.”

Kagero crinkled her nose. “Pardon?”

“Have you ever practiced ikebana?” Mikoto asked.

“I have, but-”

“Delightful! We have such lovely flowers here on the grounds that it’s a shame to not put them to use. You can come and do ikebana with me, or we can have tea. How does that sound?”

Confusing. “Pardon, milady, but you don’t have to do that.”

Mikoto frowned. “Oh?”

“It’s like I just said: My family is noble, but we aren’t influential at all. Your Highness’ time would be better spent with someone whose company would benefit you.”

Laughter burst out of the queen once more. “Oh, silly girl, I’m not looking to make any political relationships. I’d simply like to spend some time with you, make sure you don’t get lonely around here.”

She felt her face go hot, and she tugged on a stray strand of hair. “I am honored, Your Highness. I never expected the queen to even know I exist, much less look my way.”

“I am queen,” Mikoto said, “but I am not above any of my people. I believe that we should all get along.” A silence passed for a brief moment, and then she asked, “Speaking of getting along, how are you and Saizo doing?”

A hard lump formed in Kagero’s stomach, and she let go of her hair. Her face twisted and she looked at a bush of bright yellow flowers next to them. “He does not speak to me. And I have no problem with it.”

A long hum left the queen. “Is that so? I’ve known Saizo since he was a boy, and he’s always been a bit… standoffish, especially compared to his brother. But to hear that he doesn’t speak to you at all shocks me. Perhaps there’s something that could bring you closer?”

Kagero felt like sneering, but to make such an expression in front of the queen… “I don’t know of anything that could.”

She jumped a little as Mikoto’s hand slid over her lap, grabbing hold of her bag. The edge of the sketchbook peeked out. “I have heard from your brother that you are quite the artist.” The queen withdrew her hand back into her own lap, a bright smile on her face and a gleam in her eye. “Shirasagi is a city of great creativity. Why not take him out to a gallery? Or show him some of your own art?”

She fought a grimace once more. “Must I get closer to him?”

“Lady Kagero.” The tone Mikoto took was stern and motherly, and reminded her so much of her own mother’s scolding voice that Kagero winced. “I would give anything to have another second with my late husband. If you can get along with Saizo and enjoy the time you have with him, I would implore you to do so.”

* * *

 

Saizo leaned against the side of the window, his legs propped up on the rest of the ledge, staring down into the garden below. He had to tilt his head and crane his neck a bit to get a glimpse of the girl through his valid eye, but now he had a good view. He could see the queen fall on her face-- he would pretend he had not seen it-- see the girl fall to a knee in surprisingly militaristic form, see the queen take her to a bench, their backs to him, and from there it became increasingly boring.

“Saizo.”

He swung his legs over the ledge of the window, stood, and straightened his back properly. Prince Ryoma watched him from his writing space, a sharpness to his eyes that sent a shudder down Saizo’s spine. He only received that look when he was in deep trouble, after he’d mouthed off to a noble or punched a hole in some unfortunate door.

Obi looked plenty amused, his mouth curled into an irritating, catlike smile. He hovered over the prince, handing him document after document as the prince called for them, and appeared as though he was waiting for nothing more than for Saizo to get chewed out.

Saizo had not mouthed off to any noble, however, nor had he punched any holes in very unfortunate doors. “My lord?”

Ryoma took a paper from Obi’s hands and put his brush to it. “You’ve been showing up to my quarters increasingly early. And you have been leaving your duties increasingly late. You have always been a hard worker, to a fault, I would even say, but this is out of hand.”

He feigned ignorance. “Have I? Does it bother my lord?”

He took another paper from Obi. “It does. Why are you so dedicated to your work this past month?”

The answer was simple, and he was sure the prince already knew it: He didn’t want to be near the girl. He didn’t want to acknowledge his brand new rooms when his old one was just fine. He didn’t want to be there to see her do anything, to maybe run into the chance of talking to her.

He didn’t dislike the girl, that Kagero. He really didn’t.

Saizo simply didn’t like being suddenly married to a stranger. It made him queasy.

“No reason in particular, my lord,” he said.

Ryoma hummed. “Well. Perhaps since you enjoy being by my side so consistently, I’ll keep you from going on any missions outside the castle for the next long,  _ long _ while. Does that sound preferable, Saizo?”

Gods, no. A long,  _ long _ mission away from the castle was what he had been waiting for since the day after the wedding. He swallowed and clenched his fists behind his back, fighting the familiar boiling in his gut. “I-it does not sound preferable at all to me, my lord. Has my work been unsatisfactory? Is that the cause for this confrontation?”

The brush slammed against the writing table so hard that even Obi flinched, backing away respectfully from the prince. His bright green eyes wandered over to Saizo, obviously accusing him of upsetting their normally peaceful and collected liege.

“I know that you don’t want to acknowledge your marriage, Saizo,” he began, and he stood from his position. Saizo stood straighter as the prince walked across the room to him. “But it isn’t fair to Lady Kagero that you ignore her. Obi has said that she is a very sweet woman, and I believe that you should try to get to know her.”

Ryoma’s light eyes dug into him, and he resisted the urge to avert his own. The prince appreciated assertiveness, courage, and Saizo would never provide him with anything but.

Ryoma sighed and raced a hand back through his hair. “I understand that neither of you wanted to be put into this situation, but, please, try to meet one another in the middle.” He crossed the room, back to his writing desk, and Saizo watched as he eased himself down and took another paper from Obi.

“I hope that you will at least start looking at her.”

* * *

 

Kagero’s nervous facial expression, uneasy body language, and overall negative reaction when she returned home that evening did not fill Saizo with overwhelming confidence in his new ventures.

She lingered in the doorway, her hand resting on it. Her eyes flickered to him kneeling at the table, to the array of food sitting upon it, and she finally entered and shut the door behind her after another thirteen seconds.

Thirteen seconds exactly. He’d counted.

“What is this?” she asked, and she gripped the strap of her bag tightly. “Sir?”

Sir. Such a formal term. Saizo’s soldiers called him sir. He’d never, ever expected that his spouse would call him that, and something about that makes him feel disappointed somehow. He hadn’t been expecting cute pet names-- the thought of that makes him want to heave, quite honestly-- but he had been expecting something else. Something like his actual name, for the gods’ sakes.

“I brought home dinner from the kitchens,” he explained, and he gestured slightly towards the food. “I didn’t have time to cook anything from scratch. You have my apologies.”

She inched forward, like a wary deer that he and Kaze had used to feed in the mountains, and he thought for a brief moment that her hesitation at such a harmless gesture was somewhat… cute.

There. He said it. 

He hoped that the Dawn Dragon would smite him then and there.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled. “I’m afraid I have a bit of dirt on my clothes. I’ve spent the day in the gardens.” Her eyes ran over him, clearly focused on the casual clothes he’d put on, immaculate and clean. “Please let me go put on something more appropriate for the dinner table.”

“Oh.” He held up a hand. “No, please, that’s-”

The door to her room slid shut quietly, before he could even finish his sentence, and he fought the roiling in his gut for the umpteenth time that day. He waited quietly, dishing up two bowls of steaming rice, listening to the faint rustle of clothes from her room. She came back out shortly after, dressed almost too nicely for the dinner table of their own home, and knelt opposite of him.

“I.. hope that you’ll forgive me for avoiding you since the wedding,” he started awkwardly. He handed her the bowl, and she took it, clearly trying to not let her fingers touch his.

“It’s fine,” she said, and she took up her chopsticks and said no more.

Talking was hard, and Saizo huffed at her lack of contribution. Had he not brought her dinner? Not made sure it was hot? Not made sure he looked nice? She didn’t owe him anything, he supposed, but a “Wow, thanks!” or even a contribution to friendly small talk would’ve been appreciated.

Once more, Saizo hoped that the Dawn Dragon would strike him down where he sat. Saizo the Fifth, renowned ninja and retainer to the high prince, hoping for contribution to small talk.

Gods, his father must’ve been rolling in his grave.

“How have you been getting your dinner?” he asked, and he began to pull the small bones out of the fish in front of him. “I’ve been making sure that a maid leaves breakfast for you, but I haven’t seen to your other meals.”

“Oh! Has that been your doing?” A tiny hint of a smile showed on her face, but she lifted her soup to her mouth before he could enjoy it. “Thank you. As for my other meals, I’ve been taking them with Orochi, when she has the time. The kitchen staff is very welcoming for when she doesn’t. They let me have any leftovers I want. Or, I’ve been cooking for myself.”

He struggled to find something else to talk about, and he felt himself becoming more exhausted and frustrated with each passing minute. “Do you cook well?”

She set her bowl down. “My mother taught me, but I’m afraid I’m not as good at anything as she is, really. But, I can cook a decent enough meal.”

He swallowed a chunk of the fish and shifted the bone around his plate. “I see.”

Silence wrapped over them again, and he found that she ate so quietly, it was almost disturbing. Her brother was always loud, laughing at poor jokes while he ate, shoveling his food down, and once more, Saizo was surprised that this seemingly gentle young woman was related to that shameful excuse for a ninja.

Kagero did not say anything for the rest of the meal, and did not make any eye contact either. Saizo did the same. They ate their food quietly, quickly, and she offered to take the dishes back down to the kitchens when they had both finished.

The door slid shut behind her, the sound of her soft footsteps disappeared, and he groaned and threw his head on the table.

He had put effort into being nice to her! He had brought her dinner, combed his hair, put on nice clothes, made  _ small talk _ , of all things, and she had barely made eye contact, the ungrateful girl. Not so much as a thank you. He didn’t know if it made him angry or upset, or if those two things were even that different, in his book.

He got up, cleared the table of stray crumbs and gave it a final clean, and then went to the washroom. He filled the basin up with water, gave a deep sigh, and plunged his hands in, splashing the water up over his face. It dripped, splashing in small puddles on the floor, and he repeated the process three times to cool himself down.

Saizo wondered, as he decided to splash his face for a fourth time, just how he and the girl would come to so much as tolerate one another. News of the marriage had traveled quick back to Igasato, in no small part due to Kaze’s eagerness to overshare, and undoubtedly he would be getting letters soon, well wishes and blessings and demands from the elders about just when they will get to meet the sixth Saizo.

He grit his teeth, grabbed the basin, and dumped the rest of the water over his head before slamming it back down. The water sploshed noisily onto the already-wet floor, his clothes soaked and stuck to his shoulders, but the mere thought of the demands for a son he’d be receiving, the pressure on him and, more importantly, on the poor girl who had signed up for none of it, made him angry. Angrier than usual.

Saizo did not want any of this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reina leaned her naginata against her shoulder and crossed the clearing towards her. She looked even more majestic than she had at the wedding, the gold plating on her kinshi knight uniform shining in the sun, though the splotches on it, obviously from old bloodstains, left Kagero feeling more than vaguely terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uHHHHH i've actually had this done for like 3 weeks i just keep forgetting to edit.... in any case, here's chapter 4!!!! there's more Obi in this one and i gotta say i love Obi he's a good boy  
> 

Saizo began to not avoid Kagero as much, and it rather pleased her to not be completely ignored. He still didn’t care much to interact with her, or to have in-depth conversations, but his occasional “hey,” or “see you,” was enough to keep her satisfied. It wasn’t as though she wanted any more than that, anyway.

What lifted her mood even more than that were the letters from her mother and father that a courier had brought her that morning. She’d never known how nostalgic the look of her father’s scrappy handwriting actually was, or how relaxing it was to see her mother’s smooth strokes, artistic even in her writing. Along with his letter, her father had sent a bottle of perfume that he’d bought from a passing merchant, and it reminded her of her collection that she still had not unpacked.

When she pulled it from the box, Saizo leaned over her shoulder to observe it, his nose crinkled slightly. “Gift?”

“From my father,” she responded shortly, and she ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the light red glass. She would hold it up to the light and admire the way it glimmered later, when he wasn’t around to possibly scoff at her wonder.

“Do you like perfume?” he asked, and he went to the other side of the room to retrieve his mask.

Kagero held the bottle between her hands and looked over her shoulder at him. “Since I was young, my father always brought me back perfumes and the like from wherever he went on missions. Even after he lost his arm, he would always purchase something from a passing traveler. I have much more than I could ever possibly wear.”

“I see.” Saizo put his hand on the door, but paused when she stood suddenly.

It seemed as good a time as any for some “bonding,” so to say, but she was certain that, despite her best efforts, she sounded as disinterested as she actually was when she asked, “Did-- did you ever do anything like that? With your parents?”

A moment passed, he responded with, “My father would always bring me different woods to carve with, when I was a boy,” and then he was out the door.

Carving, Kagero thought, and she turned the bottle over in her hands. So both of them liked to carve? She wondered if she should ask him about that later, but brushed the thought aside to set hold her new perfume bottle to the sunlight coming in through the window. Tiny shards of gold glass appeared when she held it just right, and she determined it to be the most lovely bottle of perfume she’d ever been given. Perhaps her father had known that she needed it.

Shortly after, when she’d finished unpacking all of her perfume bottles and lining them up on a shelf in her room, she scrounged around another unpacked box, turning over clothes and shoes, and found her dusty training garments that she’d always so carefully hidden from her mother. When she slid into them, they smelled like the woods back home, the long hours spent alone with her father and a dagger in her hand, and she resisted the urge to lie down on her bed and let the smell sink into her skin.

Also from the box came a bundle of throwing weapons, all dulled for the sake of practice, rolled tight within a musty old cloth. Kagero pulled one shuriken from the pile and ran her fingers over it. The chips of mud in the curves, the scratches on the surface, and the dirty wear on it made her feel at ease.

What would make her feel more at ease would be burying it into a practice dummy.

A sweet-looking servant directed her towards an empty training ground without so much as a questioning glance. The short field had straw dummies all lined up in a row, much like the ones her father had clumsily put together for her as a child, and Kagero wasted no time burying a shuriken right between one’s two button eyes.

She stepped back a yard, grabbed a long needle from her weapon pile, and aimed carefully before throwing it into the same one’s neck. It nestled there comfortably, and refused to move even when a gust blew the dummy about.

She took a deep breath of the summer air and dragged her fingers along the blade of a dagger. She listened to the wind whispering through the trees.

This was relaxing. She could almost forget about all her troubles here.

Very relaxing.

Or, at least, it  _ was _ very relaxing, and then a naginata burst from the stomach of one of the practice dummies, nearly splitting the poor thing right in two.

Kagero shrieked as straw flew through the air and the naginata wiggled inside the hole it had made. A laugh came from behind the dummy, the spear withdrew, and Reina stood up straight from behind, leaning against her weapon.

“You should have seen your face,” she said between bursts of laughter, and Kagero frowned, pressing her hands together against her chest.

“Lady Reina?!”

Reina leaned her naginata against her shoulder and crossed the clearing towards her. She looked even more majestic than she had at the wedding, the gold plating on her kinshi knight uniform shining in the sun, though the splotches on it, obviously from old bloodstains, left Kagero feeling more than vaguely terrified.

“Lady Mikoto has asked me to keep an eye on you,” Reina said, and her eyes ran over Kagero.

“The queen?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes yes, she’s taken some interest in you,” Reina told her. “What kind of interest, I don’t know. But, it’s not unusual for her to worry about long-term newcomers to the castle, so I do not question it.”

She swallowed and stood straight, trying not to stare at the new stain she’d found near Reina’s waist, obviously freshly washed. “I see. Thank you, Lady Reina.”

“Do call me just Reina,” the knight implored. “No one has called me ‘lady’ since I was a little girl.”

Reina crossed the field again, expertly swinging her naginata from arm to arm, before she sliced her previous victim clean down the middle. The straw fell to the ground, limp, and Reina sighed.

“Not so satisfying as the real thing, I’m afraid. I wish these things could be enchanted to scream, but Orochi doesn’t like it when I ask her to create such a charm.”

“You enjoy violence?” Kagero prodded.

She scrunched her nose and plucked a straw from her blade. “I suppose. Only against people that are my queen’s enemies. I’d absolutely never hurt a hair on an innocent person’s head.”

The answer was a little reassuring. Kagero crouched down and folded the cloth back over her training weapons. “And your enemies?”

A blissful smile spread over Reina’s face. “Oh, I delight in nothing more than their screams. I wish Lady Mikoto would send me to the frontlines more, but alas, she likes me where she can see me, and I the same for her.” She flipped the naginata in her grasp and buried the blade into the ground. “Faceless don’t scream quite the same as people do, though, and they don’t bleed the same, either. It’s so disappointing.”

“Faceless?” Kagero echoed.

“Have you not heard of them?”

“Of course I have,” she shot back. “I didn’t live under a rock. I just have never seen one.”

“Count your blessings,” Reina told her, all traces of her smile gone. “They’re not particularly skilled or intelligent beasts, and it’s easy for a trained squadron to batter one down, but for the common citizen, both Nohrian and Hoshidan… Too many have lost their lives.”

“They attack Nohrians? Don’t they create them?”

“They have no rhyme or reason,” Reina stated. “A kill is a kill to them. They’ll even take the lives of the sorcerers who give them life.”

Kagero tightened her grip on her weapons. The dull edge of a dagger pressed into her hand from underneath the cloth. “Terrible.”

Reina eyed her for a moment, a somewhat blank expression on her face before her smile came back. “You know, that was quite the accuracy you had there, Lady Kagero. And quite the throw too. Orochi told me that your mother never let you use weapons, though?”

“My father trained me, a bit,” Kagero admitted. “But we never let my mother know. She would have likely fainted.”

“Does your mother have something against weapons?”

“She was a pegasi keeper in her youth, and she saw many sky knights and their mounts come back from their work, battered and bruised. Sometimes even dead. And then my father lost his arm during torture…” She worked the bundle in her hands, struggling to not think of the first time she saw her father’s stump. “She was hesitant to even send my brother off to the army, you see. The thought of it all makes her nervous.”

A hum left Reina’s mouth, and she rubbed her jaw. “Understandable indeed. However, your mother isn’t here.”

Kagero pressed her lips. “That is correct.”

“And I think you have good potential. Even some natural talent. You had very good form.” Reina cocked her head and stood straight, wrapping her hand tighter around her naginata’s hilt. “How would you feel if I took over your training?”

Kagero gripped her bundle again. “Excuse me?”

“You have nothing else to do, do you?” Reina asked.

“No, I do not.”

“Well, I could take over in place of your father, and perhaps we could get you caught up with the rest of the ninja in this army at some point?” She shook her hand, dislodging some stray pieces of straw, and stuck it out towards Kagero. “What do you say?”

A thrill that she had not felt in a very long time rushed through Kagero, and she took the knight’s hand before taking a moment to think. Her heart raced, and she gave a quick nod, trying to suppress a smile.

A smile would be unprofessional.

* * *

 

Reina put her to work the next day, early in the morning before her duties started. She gave Kagero simple exercises, but moved to harder ones when they proved too simple for her new student. The new exercises burned her muscles and dried her throat, made her legs feel like gelatin, but Kagero did not complain, especially not when Reina looked at her with such a critical eye.

Her fingers strained for her toes as Reina leaned against her, pushing her forward until she felt like screaming.

“What-- is this exercise for?” Kagero grunted between stretches.

“A ninja has to be flexible, don’t they? If you can’t touch your toes, have fun getting any farther in the actual military program.”

She gave a particularly hard push, nearly folding Kagero in half, and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from yelping before getting out, “You think I can make it into the military program?”

Reina leaned back a little. “You’re talented. Why couldn’t you? Do you not want to?”

If Kagero was being honest with herself, she did not know what she wanted.

“Reina! Are you having fun with my sister?”

She pulled back immediately, and Kagero unfolded, fell back against the ground, finally allowing herself to take a big inhale of air. She put her head to the side and found her brother and an unfamiliar man standing on the castle walkway. Obi leaned against the railing, put his chin in his hand, and gave her a mischievous smile.

Reina stood and beat the dust from her uniform. “Just helping her get some exercise is all. But, it’s time to take my leave. Lady Mikoto will be asking for me soon.” She leaned to the side a little and bowed slightly to the unfamiliar man, collected her naginata and bow, and left the clearing, disappearing into the gardens.

Her back screeched at her, but Kagero lifted herself up, doing the same as Reina and beating the dust off her new training garbs. The ones her father had given her were fine, but these had more flexibility, and looked much more professional. They would make Kagero less noticeable if she went to practice on her own.

“Was she trying to break your back?” Obi asked as she walked up the steps towards him. “She’s quite fierce, don’t you know?”

Kagero put her hand on her shoulder and rolled it around, popping a joint and feeling a bit better. “She’s very kind to spend her time on me.”

Obi quirked a brow and smiled again. The unfamiliar man behind him stepped forward, and, upon seeing his fine clothing, Kagero put her hands in front of her and bowed.

“Is this your sister, Obi?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. This is Kagero.” Obi held out a hand to his sister and stepped respectfully to the side, opening up the space between her and the man. “Kagero, this is my lord Ryoma, high prince of Hoshido.”

If Kagero’s heart had skipped a few beats when she’d met Mikoto, now it completely stopped in her chest. She swallowed, maintained her bow, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground before Prince Ryoma’s feet.

So this was the man who had engaged her to Saizo.

Ryoma stepped forward, and his hand entered her field of vision. As he said, “Lady Kagero, I’m pleased to finally meet you,” she lifted her gaze, running it up his arm and finally to his face. It was worn and there were lines at the corners of his eyes, making him look much older than she knew he was, but there was a warmth in his smile that reassured her.

“Raise your head,” he encouraged her, and he urged his hand forward once more. “I truly am delighted to meet you. I’d like to see you properly.”

Kagero took his outstretched hand and was suddenly acutely aware of just how  _ revolting _ she was. There was dirt on her hands, she noticed, and grits of it lodged under her fingernails. Exercising for nearly two hours had left her noticeably sweaty, her clothes were already stained from work, and her hair was falling out of its hold, not a single strand in place.

Gods, Kagero was holding the hand of the high prince Ryoma, and she looked like a goblin.

“Please forgive my appearance, my lord,” she blurted out, and then wished she could snatch back the words. She should have said something proper, such as “I’m delighted to meet you as well,” or “It’s an honor to be in your presence,” or perhaps even “Thank you for arranging my marriage and helping my family.”

Ryoma laughed and released her hand, hiding it back in the sleeve of his robes. “I have seen much worse in my time, Lady Kagero. You still look just as picturesque as your brother has always described you.”

Her face burned and she looked towards Obi, who whistled, low and faux-innocent.

“Have you been doing well?” the prince asked. “Is there anything you need?”

Kagero needed to be home with her parents and not-married.

“I need nothing. Thank you.”

He frowned and broke his composure for a moment to rub the back of his neck. “Do you get along well with Saizo?”

She swallowed and said, “Yes, my lord.”

He smiled, though it was more polite than anything this time, and stood straight again. “I see. You have my thanks for agreeing to marry someone as, well… Ah, how do I put this? Emotionally-repulsive as Saizo.”

An unattractive snort left Kagero, and Obi clapped a hand over his mouth, but she could see the grin behind it and the stutter of his shoulders.

“It was very important for him to get married,” Ryoma continued. “Carrying on the family name, you see.”

Her face burned once more. “Of course.”

“Unfortunately, Saizo had more interest in his job than finding a spouse. I don’t like intervening in personal matters, but Saizo is very important to me. I felt like I had to do something.” He peered at her. “I apologize, and I hope you understand.”

She fought the urge to scrunch her nose. “I understand, my lord.”

Ryoma brightened up slightly. “Moving past that, I truly apologize for missing your wedding day. Did Obi deliver my apology properly?”

“I said that I did,” Obi cut in, and Kagero spoke over him, asking, “The money? Yes, we received it, and are very grateful.”

“It’s not quite a proper wedding gift,” the prince said, and he crossed his arms. “May I have the opportunity to give you a gift that is personal to you?”

Kagero shook her head, wondering when she would get to leave. A couple of people walked by, clearly scrutinizing her filthy appearance in front of the prince, and all she wanted was to leave and save herself more embarrassment. She should have been dressed in her finest clothes for this meeting, had her hair combed and arranged nicely, not be covered in mud. “I have no great interests or hobbies, so you don’t need to worry.”

Ryoma scrunched his forehead as he frowned. “Untrue. Your brother tells me you’re quite the artist. Do you need any art supplies? I’m taking my youngest sister into the city later, so I can stop and get something for you.”

“My lord, I--”

“Please, Lady Kagero, I insist.”

She shut her eyes and relented to say something, hoping that it would end the conversation and get her to a bath much sooner. “Then, I have been looking to get some oils for my paints. I’m afraid some of my favorite mixtures dried out when I came here, and I need to smooth them out.”

The prince nodded and took her hand again, holding it gently between his own. Kagero had grown up on stories of the prince’s bravery against Nohr, his ferocious strength and unyielding will, and had always pictured him a cold, unsmiling man. And yet, this prince was warm and kind, obviously tired, and yet, considerate. Kagero liked this man much more than the myth, and put her other hand atop his.

“I will buy you the finest, Lady Kagero. I hope you have a good day.” He released her hand and turned to Obi, who still looked like he was trying to get over “emotionally-repulsive” being used to describe Saizo. “Obi, why don’t you spend some time with your sister? I can head to the dining room on my own.”

“Yes, Lord Ryoma. Thank you,” Obi bowed his head and they waited for Ryoma to turn the next corner, and then he burst into laughter.

“Did you hear that?” He put his hands behind his back and cleared his throat, lowering his voice to say, “‘Emotionally-repulsive,’” before having another fit.

Kagero allowed herself to laugh as well. “It was amusing. And I cannot say that he’s wrong, brother.”

Letting out one last laugh, Obi slumped down on a nearby bench, his hands on his knees. “That guy kills me. Says the funniest things without even realizing it. What a guy.”

Kagero pressed her lips and sat down next to her brother, her hands folded in her lap. “Obi, do not refer to your lord as ‘a guy.’ How crass.”

He straightened and leaned against the wall behind them. “I think he likes it when I’m a little casual with him. Saizo is so uppity and stiff around Lord Ryoma, and I think it bothers him sometimes. I try to be as friendly as possible.”

“Well, do try and have some dignity,” she reminded. “You’re retainer to our future king.”

“You sound just like Saizo,” he commented, and then looked apologetic when she winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

The siblings stayed quiet for a moment, watching the empty clearing, before Kagero decided to say, “Reina has offered to teach me. She says I have natural talent when it comes to fighting.”

Obi quirked his head. “Are you going to join the military?”

She frowned and stared at her lap. “I don’t know. I just… like the feeling of holding a weapon. It makes me feel useful. Closer to you and Father.”

“Would you like to enlist?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see.” He stared out at the clearing again, and Kagero studied the profile of his face. He looked a bit harder than he did when he visited home. He looked much sadder when he wasn’t smiling or joking, more serious and like a typical ninja. In his black uniform, he appeared more like a professional than her brother, and she wondered just what military service had done to him over the years. The only thing to liven him up was the fluffy yellow scarf around his neck, and her eyes lingered on it, remembering how it was their father who once wore it.

He caught her staring. “Is it odd to see me in uniform?”

She looked away. “A little. You always made a point to not wear it when you visited home.”

He smiled and lifted the edge of his scarf. “I feel happier when I don’t wear it.”

Kagero pressed her lips and tightened her hands together. “Does being a ninja make you feel bad?”

He mirrored her expression. “Some of the work is hard. And it’s messy. But I keep people safe, so it’s not all bad.”

“Oh.” Kagero leaned against the wall and turned her eyes back to the clearing. A group of young teenagers, clad in practice gear, were entering it excitedly, mock weapons in hand, and she watched as an instructor put them into groups.

“It gets cold early here in Shirasagi,” Obi said, and she turned back to him. “It’s because we’re surrounded by these mountains.”

“We’re only nearing the middle of summer.”

“Summer is about the normal length, but the cold hits hard and fast. You’ll see.” Her brother grabbed the scarf from around his neck and began to unwind it. “You can have this.”

She pushed his hands back as he held it out towards her. “That’s part of your uniform. You can’t give it to me.”

Insistently, he pushed past her hands and slung the scarf over her neck before beginning to wrap it. “This was Father’s. It might help you feel less homesick. I’ll just get another one from somewhere, so it’s fine.”

It had been years since their father had worn it, and yet, Kagero felt that it still had his strong, reassuring scent. It was surprisingly soft and well-kept, despite having probably seen countless messy situations, and she ducked her face closer to it, burying her hands into the fabric.

“Thank you,” she said, and he rested a hand on her head.

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

 

Lord Ryoma entered the room, and Saizo stood.

His lord eyed him for a moment, then carried on. “Were you waiting here for me, Saizo?”

“I was,” he responded, and he followed an appropriate distance behind. “Where is Obi? He was to escort you to your meal.”

“I let him have a moment with his sister,” Ryoma said, and Saizo froze for a second.

“You met her?” he asked, careful to not call her “the girl,” but also careful to avoid her name.

“I did meet Lady Kagero,” he said. “I liked her very much.”

“I see. She is a… fine person,” he commented lamely.

Ryoma paused, and Saizo immediately stopped in his tracks as well. The prince turned to him, his eyes narrowed, and Saizo fought back a shudder. He felt no better than an enemy being stared down on the battlefield, and made a mental note to never intentionally get on Lord Ryoma’s bad side.

“You’ve been married for nearly two months now,” the prince told him.

“I-- I have.”

“And, Saizo, what do you know of Lady Kagero?”

Saizo had been doing his best to not avoid her, but he hadn’t exactly been trying to get to know her. He felt guilty enough for dragging her into this whole mess, the responsibility of carrying on the family name, of taking her from her family and forcing her into a strange new life. She probably didn’t ever want to see him, and he was doing everything he could to accommodate that. He’d give her space for the rest of her life, if she wanted.

“I-- well.” Saizo placed his hands behind his back and gripped them together, staring at the corner of the hall. “She, ah, has a close relationship with her brother.”

Ryoma narrowed his eyes lower. “Yes, but we already knew that from the way he carries on about her. Have you learned anything new about her? That you did not previously know from Obi?”

He swallowed and fumbled around for something else. “She can cook. But doesn’t prefer it.”

The prince tilted his head, as if urging him on.

“And-” He reached back further in his mind, until he found something recent. “She likes perfume.”

Ryoma lifted his eyebrows. “Does she?”

“Yes. She told me so the other morning. Her father sent her a gift.”

The prince turned away and proceeded, leaving Saizo to feel as though a great weight had fallen off his shoulders. “Perfume, hmm? Well, perhaps you should get her some as a gift.”

“Do you think she would want a gift from me?” he muttered, and immediately regretted it.

“Why would you ask that?” Ryoma asked, still walking and staring straight ahead.

“The g-- Kagero isn’t happy with this marriage. Do you know that?”

He sighed so heavily that his shoulders fell. “She said she was fine, but I suspected as much. Perhaps I made a mistake in trying to set this all up.”

“You make no mistakes, my lord,” Saizo defended. “Maybe it will just take time for us to acclimate to one another.”

“Maybe,” Ryoma mused. “I’m sure she doesn’t dislike you. Just-- just be a little friendlier towards her. Buy her a nice gift. I’m sure that things will turn out.”

Saizo had a feeling that Kagero was not so simple a person as to be swayed with friendly gestures and nice presents, but he did not say so.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO i've uh. had like four chapters of looking at you written out for two months, because i wrote a ton while i was avoiding doing my homework during finals week lol. i just kept forgetting to edit it. and now it's summer and i've got a forty-hour work week, so there's less time to write/edit yat. bluguguhg in any case, here's the next chapter!! it might be a little scrappy, just because my editing/revision game feels off lately, so im sorry. in any case, thanks for your patience and for sticking around, i really appreciate it!

It was twenty days since Saizo left on what he called an important job, and his absence made Kagero feel like it was okay to finally unpack some of her things. She pulled boxes out of corners and unpacked her favorite trinkets, setting them in places around her room. She would keep them there, she determined, and not put them outside, so that she didn’t bother Saizo. She unpacked the household supplies her mother had bought her–a few pots, some bags of rice, utensils, the like–and set them in the kitchen, and finally, she unpacked her art supplies.

Her paint was clumpy, and she used the oil that Prince Ryoma had bought her to smooth it out into a nice consistency again. She set her brushes and carving tools in a line, perfectly organizing them, unrolled the cloth with her charcoal inside to make sure none of the sticks had broken. All of her innumerable sketchpads went to the corner beside her bed, and she put a block of her carving wood atop to make sure wind coming in from the window didn’t bother the pages.

Everything had its place again, and with most of her possessions and perfume bottles decorating her room, Kagero felt a bit more at home.

She got to drawing right away, sketching an outline of the garden where she had met the queen. She tried to recall the look of the water, the tall flower stalks, and especially the curve of the low-hanging trees, but found with great frustration that she could not replicate it exactly from memory. Figuring it was only a short walk away, she grabbed her bag, clutched her sketchbook tight, and left her room, heading for the door.

It slid open as she reached out, and she jumped and took a step back. Saizo stood in the doorway, his eyes heavy and tired. A hand rested on his mask, but he froze and lowered his hand as he looked down at her.

Kagero’s stomach lurched as she recognized blood on the edge of his scarf.

“G-good afternoon,” she mumbled, lifting her sketchbook as though she could hide behind it. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the sight of bloody clothing; her father had come home with it on plenty of times. Regardless, she pretended not to see it, more for Saizo’s sake than her own.

“Hey,” he responded. His eye went down to the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up to her face. “What are you doing?”

Kagero lowered the sketchbook a little. “I’m going out to the gardens. I was going to sit there for a while. Relax.”

He stepped into the room and slid the door shut behind him, crossing his arms. “Were you going to draw?”

She let the sketchbook fall away from her chest and regarded it, suddenly abashed. “I was. I finally unpacked all my art supplies.”

He walked past her, his hand reaching up once again to pull away his mask. He knelt at the table and rested his head against a fist. “Why didn’t you unpack before? It’s been a couple of months since you came here.”

Her face flushed and she admitted, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Saizo lowered his hand and blinked. “Bother me?”

“There are your rooms,” she said.

“These are as much your rooms as they are mine. And I don’t spend much time here anyway. Do as you will.”

Kagero felt a spark of annoyance in her. Of course she knew that these were also her rooms. She just didn’t want them to be, and she was certain that he knew that, but she also was certain that he was just trying to be cordial.

Being cordial seemed to be hard for Saizo. He’d asked to be able to escort her to having tea with the queen, and when someone had bumped into him without apologizing, he’d clenched his fists so hard that she could see the veins on the back of his hands. He spoke to the servants in a harsh voice, even if what he said was not necessarily harsh. If he was mad, Saizo could pace a room until the floor had a hole in it, all while swearing up a storm under his breath. Kagero wondered why it was that Saizo had such great anger issues, but she didn’t exactly care to find out. It was his business, not her own.

“Thank you for the permission,” she said drily.

Saizo’s eye went to her sketchbook once more, and he straightened up. “Obi has often said that you do art. What kind of art do you like?”

He was trying much too hard to sound casual, but she indulged him anyway. She crossed the room and knelt next to him. “Painting, mostly. I also enjoy sketching and carving.”

He held out a hand and asked to see the sketchbook, and Kagero handed it to him, a bit reluctantly. He took great care in flipping through it, careful to not tear the paper or so much as bend the corner of a single page. Oddly enough, it put her at some sort of odd ease to see him be so delicate with something so trivial.

“What else do you like to do?” he asked, still flipping through her pages. “Besides art.”

“I, uh, enjoy flower arrangements. And I do like to prepare tea ceremonies. But my teachers always said my tea came out bitter. They go well with sweet treats, though.”

Saizo shuddered, and she wondered if he’d come across something particularly ghastly in her sketches, but he instead muttered, “Sweets? Really?”

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“Despise them,” he responded.

She leaned back and studied him. The bridge of his nose was scrunched up at just the very mention of sweets, and, dare she say, she thought it was a bit endearing that someone as infamously stoic as Saizo the Fifth would be disturbed at that.

“Any reason?” she asked.

“They’re terrible,” was all he said.

“Is that so?” A faint smile pressed on her lips and she sat back, content to watch him finish looking at her sketches.

He handed the book back to her and turned away, pulling his scarf off. “Those weren’t half-bad.”

“Not half-bad.” From anyone else, she would have taken that with a bit of offense. “Not half-bad” was something someone said when they didn’t want to flatout say that her art was vaguely disturbing and unusually surreal, and that they didn’t like it. Coming from Saizo, however, and having an idea of what kind of person he was, she felt that it was actually a rather strong compliment.

Kagero brushed a hand over the cover of her book. “Most people have a stronger opinion on my art than ‘not half-bad.’”

He let the scarf flutter to the table. “What do they say about it?”

“That it’s surreal. Disturbing.” Kagero opened the book to the first page, looking down fondly at a river, swirling angrily and painted with faint red watercolor. “But that’s just how I’ve always made things. I suppose I don’t know how to make anything that’s considered ‘right.’”

“What you make is fine as it is,” he told her. “Things that are perfect and pretty get dull fast. What I saw in there, that was interesting. You have an interesting way of doing things. Not a wrong way.”

Despite herself, she smiled a little wider. “That may be the kindest thing you’ve said to me, Saizo.”

He stared at her, clearly shocked at something, and she realized quickly that it was the fact that she had used his name. Kagero could count on just both her hands how many times she had referred to him with it, and a surge of guilt flushed through her.

“I’m going to go now,” she said, and she stood.

“I’m going to sleep,” he responded.

Kagero gripped the sketchbook in her hands, headed for the door, and left him alone.

* * *

 

Orochi had been waiting for her right down the hall, and now, instead of the peaceful afternoon in the gardens she wanted, she was being quite literally dragged through the overcrowded Shirasagi streets. The rush of sounds, the shouting and laughing, the sound of cart wheels bumping over rocks, bothered Kagero. But, Orochi looked so delighted, holding her hand and winding her way through the crowd, that Kagero did not say anything.

“It’s a lovely day!” Orochi said for the umpteenth time.

“Yes,” Kagero responded for the umpteenth time.

“Perfect day to go out on the town.”

“I would’ve preferred the gardens, you know.”

“Oh, you can’t stay in the gardens all the time! My lady Mikoto is starting to pity you greatly, the way you flop down there and don’t move,” Orochi scoffed.

“I’m relaxing, not flopping!” Kagero protested.

“Well, you will do some relaxing here now,” Orochi said. “There’s an art exhibit in town, and I thought you’d be interested to pay a visit.”

The crowd started to thin as they exited the shopping district, and Kagero’s heart stopped racing. “Is there really?”

“Indeed there is. Orochi tells no lies, especially not when it comes to something as simple as this.”

A hand rested on her shoulder from behind, and Kagero nearly leapt out of her skin when Kaze seemingly appeared from the wind itself, clicking his tongue and saying, “Orochi tells a great many lies, especially when it comes to simple things.”

“Kaze!” Orochi scolded, her hand on her heart, also clearly startled by his sudden appearance. “I do not!”

HIs hand slipped off her shoulder and he crossed his arms. “I shall list them: Just last week, you told a string of lies, just to get Hinata to go to the market for you.” He ticked the events off on his fingers, and Kagero stifled a laugh. “And yesterday, you got extra breakfast by telling that silly story to one of the servants. And this morning-”

“Mercy, mercy!” Orochi cried. “What has Orochi done to warrant such abuse?”

A smile lifted Kaze’s face. “Perhaps stop your little people-games, and I will stop pestering you. A fair tradeoff?”

She turned on her heel, huffed, and continued walking down the street. Kagero followed, and Kaze stayed at her side.

“What brings you into town today?” she asked him.

“I was asked to run some errands for the lady Azura,” he told her. “I saw you two, and thought I would act as an escort. Do you mind?”

“I don’t see why we would need an escort,” Kagero said, “but regardless, you are welcome.”

Kaze smiled again. “Truthfully, I wanted to spend some time with my sister-in-law. Do you mind if I call you that, Lady Kagero?”

“I’ve told you before to just call me Kagero,” she reminded. She stared at Orochi’s back as they walked along. “I do not mind. You’re one of the better things that has come out of this marriage.”

Kaze pressed his lips together as Orochi lead them into the exhibit building. He held the entrance curtain back for Kagero. “I see.”

He appeared troubled, all of a sudden, and Kagero wondered if she should have kept the snide comment to herself. Kaze looked as though he wanted to say something more, but Orochi grabbed her arm and dragged her over to a painting, oblivious to the atmosphere.

She pointed to the painting excitedly. “Isn’t this one nice? Lady Mikoto and I came here the other day, and she was tempted to buy it. I wish I had the money to buy it as a present, but alas…” Their eyes drifted down to the price tag, and Kagero grimaced at the long string of numbers.

“It’s very nice,” she told Orochi, and she studied it. It was a landscape painting in the likeness of a field that reminded her of the one back at her home. The sky was painted a light blue, the grass a vivid green, and soft pastels wove into wildflowers. The artist had painted a building in the distance (a watermill, when Kagero leaned in closely to study the brushstrokes), and it gave the painting a whimsical feeling.

It reminded Kagero very much of home. Of the field she’d lain in when the courier had come with the letters. The field she’d lain in in utter disbelief after her parents had told her about her marriage, and she stared at it until Orochi snatched up her hand.

Orochi pulled her over to another piece, a carving of something that Kagero could not identify on sight. “And this one, I thought you would also like. The carving style is similar to your own, and-”

“You’re pulling her along too fast, Orochi,” Kaze said. “How is she supposed to appreciate anything?”

“There’s so much to see, though,” she argued.

“Not enough to warrant pulling her about the way you do.”

“Now, you listen here-”

They argued, Orochi still holding her hand in a near death-grip, and Kagero was drawn to look back towards the painting of the field once more.

She was homesick, she realized, and it hit her like a cart. Truly, unbearably homesick, yet she successfully fought back the tears pressing against the back of her eyes. She turned from the painting and pressed her lips.

“Orochi,” she cut in. “How about we move along? There’s more to see.”

Kaze and Orochi immediately stopped their argument, both looking over at her dubiously. 

“You look sad,” Orochi noted, and she frowned deeply. “I knew it. Is this adventure not helpful?”

“This is about Saizo, isn’t it?” Kaze asked.

“I didn’t mention anything about him,” she began defensively, and then stopped herself. “I mean, no, it’s just… I suppose it’s about everything.”

Orochi’s eyes flicked to the painting, and she sighed. “You’re very homesick, aren’t you?”

The tears pressed her eyes again, and she battled them back again. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Is Saizo unkind to you?” Kaze interjected. Something like anger, which she had never seen on Kaze, settled on his expression. “If he has done anything to harm you, I can have a talk with him. A very,  _ very _ harsh talk.”

“He is not unkind,” she assured. She pulled her hand out of Orochi’s, gripped the strap of her bag with it, and looked toward the ground. “In fact, I would say he’s making true attempts to be cordial.”

“Do you dislike him?” Orochi asked.

“Not so much,” she responded.

“Are you sure he hasn’t been cruel?” Kaze pressed on.

“He’s been polite,” she said, and then paused. “I think that’s the issue.”

Kagero was grateful for the solitude of the exhibit hall. She wasn’t shedding tears by any means, but discussing her feelings in public? Still mortifying. She’d be ashamed if anyone overheard.

“He’s making such attempts to be polite and to get along, while I still don’t know what to do. Just this morning, he tried taking an interest in my art. Meanwhile, I’ve barely called him by his name the entire time I’ve been here.” She sighed deeply, still trying to keep her eyes away from Kaze and Orochi’s. “I came here disliking him. But now, I just don’t know. No matter what either of us do, nothing changes. And I feel as though I’m not doing everything that is expected of me.”

“You feel guilty,” Kaze guessed. “That the person you assumed would be unkind to you is not, and that at the same time, you feel you aren’t making any progress yourself.”

She pressed her lips. “Perhaps. I think it’s a very complicated situation.” She hesitated, and then groaned, running her hands through her hair. “Gods, listen to me! I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“Kagero has always been so shut-in and stoic,” Orochi said. She twirled hair in her fingers and twisted her lips. “Truly the daughter of a ninja family.”

“You’re mean,” she responded quietly, with a faint smile, and she lowered her hands from her face. “Don’t tease me so when I’m trying to be truthful.”

“Very well,” she said, and she dropped her hair. “But truthfully, don’t worry yourself. If you ask me, I say you should ignore him, and everything will fall into place. Your life will go on. If Saizo wishes to keep making attempts to be cordial, let him. There’s no need for you to do anything in return.”

“But isn’t there?” she protested. “Whether I agreed to be or not, I am married to him. I should do my best to at least be kind in return.”

“Kagero makes a point,” Kaze said. “She can’t just ignore him and her situation. To suggest she can is foolish. Or, at least, that is my opinion.”

Orochi frowned again and crossed her arms. “Fine, fine. I suppose that that is correct. But that doesn’t mean that you have to start trying all at once.”

“That is right. It doesn’t.” Kaze put a hand on Kagero’s shoulder. “What Orochi was right about was saying that everything would fall into place. All that you need is time and the right moment. It has only been a couple of months. Things don’t change so quickly.”

“I apologize for ruining our outing,” she mumbled.

“Nonsense,” Kaze said. “Would you like to continue? I saw something very pretty over there that I thought you might like.”

Orochi grabbed her hand again and they followed Kaze through the exhibit hall, leaving the landscape painting behind them. “Will you be alright?” she asked.

Kagero smiled. “I think I will be, in time. But, I have been wondering something.”

She glanced at her. “And what would you have been wondering?”

“Well, I was hoping you could give me a fortune,” Kagero said. “Perhaps tell me where my relationship with Saizo might stand. If it will improve.”

Orochi did not grimace often, but that was most certainly what she was doing now. “Kagero, as someone who has already consulted the fates on that matter, I can tell you now:

“Not even the cards know that.”

* * *

 Saizo had, in fact, not gone to sleep like he had told Kagero he would. He intended to, sure, but he hadn’t even gotten out of his uniform before Obi was knocking on the door and telling him that there was some big royal family meeting, and they wanted a few retainers outside the door. A trivial thing, really, since they only called Hinata, Azama, and Subaki besides them. It wouldn’t take very long, and that was all that comforted Saizo as he leaned against the wall, listening to Azama chatter on and on and on. He’d be able to go home soon. He’d be able to sleep soon.

In the moment, however, he thought punching Azama might be more refreshing than sleep.

“And that,” Azama finished, “is why we have no purpose in this life.”

A relieved sigh left all of them.

“A delightful lecture as always, Azama,” Subaki said, but the pained expression on his face indicated that he was more aware of his mortality than usual.

Azama glanced towards the door. “It seems they still aren’t done. How about we talk amongst ourselves a while longer?”

Even Obi groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Saizo!”

The second his name came out of the monk’s mouth, Saizo imagined decking him.

“Now, as we all know, I’ve kept my promise to maintain at least twenty feet from your wife at all times, so I haven’t been able to ask her directly how she is. So, I ask you: Is she doing well?” Azama leaned forward on his knees, his smile indicative of a more wicked question somewhere in the future.

“She’s fine,” Saizo responded, and he shut his eye.

“Oh, that’s good! It just seemed like you two didn’t want to get along at your wedding reception. Really had me worried there.”

“You both did look pretty upset,” Hinata said. “Definitely not the happiest reception I’ve ever been to.”

Saizo tapped his foot. “It’s fine.”

“I see.” Azama laid his staff across his lap. “Fine enough that you two have finally gotten around to consummating the marriage?”

Saizo’s eye flew open, flicking across the room to land on Obi. Everyone in the room stood stock still, staring at Azama in horror, but Obi’s expression was wide-eyed and blank as he watched Azama. His fists were clenched tightly.

In any case, Saizo was starting to feel incredibly hot in the face.

“Azama, that’s really rude!” Hinata scolded. He gripped the handle of his katana. “Like, really really  _ really _ rude.”

Subaki stepping a good eight feet away from Saizo didn’t slip past his notice. “Hinata is right. It’s definitely not polite. Please, apologize.”

“I’m only curious!” Azama said. “As a monk, it’s my job to know these things. Procreation is a sacred thing after all, and-”

He took a deep breath in, exhaled slowly, just like Kaze had showed him many times, and said sharply, “We haven’t.”

Azama smiled again. “I see. Well, that’s fine! Doesn’t matter, actually. I just wanted to see if the great Saizo the Fifth would squirm like a boy if I brought up his sex life.”

He forgot his breathing and brandished his arm blade. “I’ll slit your throat.”

The monk laughed. “My, my! There’s a reaction! I wonder, should I ask Lady Kagero the same question? I wonder, what kind of reaction would I get from her?”

Saizo was prepared to cross the floor and make good on his promise, but Obi was there first, crouched down next to Azama, his hands on his shoulders. The friendly smile on his face, Saizo thought, was more terrifying than any expression he could make himself. Hinata and Subaki took a long stride back from the scene.

“Now, Azama.” He noticeably squeezed the monk’s shoulders. “I have always been kind to you. You bother Saizo. I like that about you.” He squeezed his shoulders even tighter, to the point where Azama started to verbally protest. “However, if you approach my sister and say such rude things, I will literally rip your tongue out, and then you won’t ever be able to say a nasty thing to anyone again. So, you leave my sister alone, you hear?”

Azama swallowed, and Saizo delighted in the sweat forming on his brow. “L-loud and clear. Your sister is safe from my wit.”

* * *

 

Kaze left early to run Lady Azura’s errands, but Orochi and Kagero got home later when the sun was starting to set. Besides going to the art exhibit, they’d stopped at the market, and Kagero had bought as much as she could carry. Perhaps she could make a meal for her and Saizo to eat. Maybe it would come across as effort on her part. Saizo had done his best with that meal for her last month, so she could try to do the same.

Orochi walked her down the halls, back towards her room. “Was today fun? Did you enjoy it?”

“I did,” Kagero told her. “Thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate it.”

Orochi sighed. “You know, sometimes I wish you’d get rid of that super-formal way of speaking when you’re with me.”

“It’s just the way I talk. I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s a lovely way to speak. So polite. Refined,” said a voice from behind them.

Orochi squealed and Kagero jumped, and they both turned to find the queen walking right behind them, as though she had been with them the entire time.

“My queen!” Orochi exclaimed. “How long have you been there?”

“A minute, maybe two.” Mikoto stopped and folded her hands in front of her. “I was so lonely without you today, Orochi, and I got stuck in a long meeting with my children, so I thought I’d say hello right when you got back! I didn’t know that you went out with Lady Kagero, however.” The queen’s gaze fell on her, and she smiled as Kagero bowed. “Did you two have a good time?”

“Very!” Orochi said, a happy blush spread on her cheeks. “We went to see that art exhibit that you and I went to the other day.”

“How nice.” Mikoto continued to look at Kagero. “That exhibit will be in town for another couple of days. Why not invite Saizo to go with you?”

Kagero’s mouth felt dry, and her bags of groceries extra heavy. “I don’t know…”

“I can tell Ryoma to give him a day off,” Mikoto pressed. “He can have Orochi or Reina during the time to make up for it. Please, you should go out into town together.”

After another five minutes of the queen following them and gently pestering, Kagero relented to ask him. Except, when she finally got to their rooms, she found him slumped over the table, scowling at nothing and angrily tapping a finger against the wood.

It wasn’t a good sign.

“G-good evening,” she said.

His good eye went to her, though his scowl didn’t let up. “Hm.”

“Is it not a good evening?” she asked. She set her bags of groceries down for a moment.

“Not very,” he mumbled. “Someone pissed me off.”

The urge to shoot back “doesn’t that happen every day?” was strong, but she fought it back. “I see. I’m sorry.”

He grunted in response, continuing his tapping on the table, and Kagero took her shopping to the kitchen area, where she began to put it away. She could feel his eye fixed on her, and to say it unnerved her was an understatement.

“You want to say something,” he said suddenly, and Kagero nearly dropped the bundle of carrots she held.

“I do,” she responded. “But-”

“Say it,” he demanded. “I haven't got all day.”

She took a breath in and didn't turn to face him as she sorted through her groceries. “There's an art exhibit in the city for another couple of days, and I wondered if you would want to see it. With me.”

Saizo kept quiet, but the drumming on the table stopped.

She nervously picked at the stem of a beet. “The queen said she could give you the day off. That the prince could have Orochi or Reina’s services for the day. And then we… could go out.”

More silence, and then: “I don't want to go out into town just for something like that. I’ve got more important things to do.”

It struck her like a crash of lightning, and she swallowed. He had more important things to do. “I see.”

More important things to do.

More important than her.

Little did she care for Saizo, but it still felt almost like he had slapped her.

* * *

 

Kaze came over that night while Kagero was in her room, penning a letter to her parents. They must have assumed she was asleep, given the time of night and the silence from her room, because they spoke freely to each other. Though, Kagero would say that it was less speaking, and more very intense arguing. She dipped the brush into her ink and began to write:

_ Father and Mother, I- _

“Saizo, how could you be so blunt? How incredibly rude!”

“I didn’t tell you about my problems so you could lecture me.”

She swallowed and stared down at the letter absently, most of her attention on the conversation outside.

“You basically just told her that you don’t care to go out with her, nor do you care about her interests. That’s an exceedingly rude thing to say to your spouse. Sugi would be ashamed of you.”

She wondered for a moment who Sugi was, but brushed it away and continued with her letter.

_ Shirasagi is beautiful, and- _

“I don’t care what that old bat would say. And it’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t have an eye for art. And I’m busy.”

Kagero’s words on the paper felt empty, as though she was a child writing a practice letter, supervised by her tutors. Despite it, she kept writing, going on and on about the sights in Shirasagi, the people and the places, and focused on not eavesdropping. It was incredibly rude, after all.

Then again, maybe she could stand to be a little bit rude, just for the night.

“You keep doing this, Saizo,” Kaze scolded. “You are never going to get along with her if you keep up this attitude.”

“What attitude?” he demanded. “I’ve done everything in my power to be cordial to her. If anything, she’s-”

“Do not make excuses to me, Brother,” warned Kaze. “You keep telling me things like ‘I want to get along with her,’ but when opportunities present themselves, you push them away. You’re too blunt.”

“So what, honesty is bad now?”

Kagero dipped her brush into the ink again, taking a deep breath as she did so. She had rambled on about Shirasagi for long enough. Maybe she would tell her parents about how Obi was doing.

“Honesty, no. But an excess of bluntness, yes. Be more considerate, Saizo, or she will never warm up to you, nor you to her. I understand that neither of you wanted this, but you should at least get along a little.”

Her characters became more shaky, and Kagero took a moment to steady her hand before she kept on writing. The argument outside her room died down, ending with Saizo sighing tiredly, and Kaze thanking him for his time. They sounded more like reluctant business partners than brothers to Kagero.

The familiar sound of a sliding door indicated that Saizo had retired to his room for the night. Kagero let out an exhausted sigh, setting down her brush for a moment to rub her hands over her face. 

Her relationship with this man felt mind-numbingly simple: A step backwards, a step forwards, and then a step or two backwards again. A little give, and then nothing for a long period of time.

She wondered briefly if she should tell her parents that. She stared down at her letter, a bitter part of her eager to let them know how miserable and stressed she was, how angry she was that they forced her into this, and she eventually had the whole monologue planned out in her head: 

_ You sent me here against my will, you’ve made me miserable, you’ve made this man miserable, and you’ve made nothing but a mistake, and- _

She stirred the ink in her bottle around.

And it would fix nothing.

Kagero loved her parents dearly, and making them feel guilty over something that could not change would only make them all suffer. She contemplated for a moment going over to her brother’s room and taking comfort in his company for a few days, but she didn’t want him to worry, either. If Saizo was busy, he would be, too. He didn’t have time to worry about something as shallow as an unhappy sister.

Kagero felt heavy. Heavy with anger, bitterness, sadness. Heavy with the knowledge that no matter what she did, or what he did, they couldn’t find a middle ground. Heavy with resentment towards herself for not making much effort, and heavy with resentment towards everyone with a hand in this stupid arrangement.

Kagero missed home. Missed lying in the big, open field, missed the river where she would cool her feet, missed practicing weapons in secret with her father, missed the relaxing sight of her mother embroidering her kimonos.

She plucked her brush out of the inkwell and put it against the paper again to finish her letter with a very big lie:

_ I’ve started to get along well with Saizo, and I’ve made the acquaintance of many interesting people. I’ve found myself very happy here, and you have nothing to worry about. _

_ With all my love, _

_ Kagero  _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing was, Kagero did not know what she wanted for herself. She’d never been a big dreamer, and had always simply done what the day demanded. She would get up, do her chores, study her mother’s domestic ways, and then sneak off with her father to throw some shuriken around. That had always been her life: Being groomed into a good housewife, and she’d never thought much of it, yet she’d never thought much of anything else, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmMMMMMM this fic is never gonna get done if i only keep publishing every four months im sorry i promise i still love saigero, it's just that zeke and tatiana from the new game have consumed my entire soul because they're so mushy and in love and im dyin
> 
> anyway IM SORRY HERE'S A NEW CHAP

“You look pale,” Reina told her, her brow scrunched in obvious concern. She sat down next to Kagero on the grass, laying her naginata over her lap. “And thin. Are you not eating?”

Three weeks since she had sent the letter, three weeks since she had lost her appetite, her desire to do anything, and her ability to sleep. Kagero felt numb, and was embarrassed to see that someone was noticing.

“I feel a little poor lately,” she admitted. “I don’t have much energy. You have my apologies, Reina.”

The older woman hummed and lifted her naginata, scraping the edge with a nail to check its blade. “Yes, I’ve been beating you down easily for a couple of weeks now. You normally put up an impressive fight. This hasn’t been any fun at all for me.”

Kagero leaned back, allowing herself to lie in the plush, late summer grass. The sun beat down, but the shade of a nearby tree protected her. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in scatters, and she shut her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She felt a gloved hand brush a strand of her hair away from her face, and relished it. Reina’s hand felt similar to her mother’s, not that she’d ever do something as embarrassing as tell her that. “Are you alright? This is about your marriage, isn’t it?”

“I am not alright,” Kagero admitted. “I have not been alright for four months.”

“Has it already been that long?” Reina marveled.

A bitter smile took Kagero’s lips. “I’ve counted the days.”

They were silent for a moment, listening to the cicadas scream, before Reina spoke up again. “Is he cruel to you?”

“He is not.”

“Do you hate him?”

“I do not.”

A frown pulled at Reina’s face. “I don’t understand why you’re unhappy, then.”

Kagero sat back up, pulling a long strand of grass from her hair. She held it in her hands and dragged her nail through it, slicing it up the middle. “It’s just that it’s nothing.”

“How do you mean?”

She threw the shredded grass to the wind. “I’ve become convinced that we cannot understand each other. He’s far too closed off for me to understand him, and I’m too stubborn to allow him to understand me.”

Reina rested her cheek against a fist. “What you mean is that you two just can’t make any headway?”

“I’m frightened that I’ll spend the rest of my life in a constant state of indifference,” she elaborated. “This isn’t what I wanted for myself. And I’m sure this isn’t what Saizo wanted, either. We’ve both been shackled down by… whatever this arrangement is. It’s done no good, is my problem.”

A pitying look crossed Reina’s face. “What was it you wanted for yourself, Kagero?”

The thing was, Kagero did not know what she wanted for herself. She’d never been a big dreamer, and had always simply done what the day demanded. She would get up, do her chores, study her mother’s domestic ways, and then sneak off with her father to throw some shuriken around. That had always been her life: Being groomed into a good housewife, and she’d never thought much of it, yet she’d never thought much of anything else, either.

“I don’t know,” she said, shutting her eyes. The summer wind ruffled her bangs. “I’ve never had many plans, but I know that they wouldn’t have involved this.”

“I’m going to make a guess about you,” Reina said suddenly. “Do you mind?”

“A guess about me?” she repeated.

“Your mother raised you to be demure,” Reina began. “To be quiet, pretty, and talented at many things. Things like cooking, sewing, embroidering, washing. She groomed you to be a good housewife, and she didn’t fill your head with much else, did she?”

Kagero pressed her lips.

“Not that that was wrong of her,” Reina continued. “Those are useful skills, after all. But it wasn’t ever what you really wanted. And you didn’t know what you wanted, either. It was a constant state of nothing.” A long, long silence passed between them, and Reina then said, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You speak from experience,” Kagero assumed.

The knight smiled. “I was born a daughter to a small noble family, much like yours. Though, my father held power as a politician, rather than being a soldier. They wanted me to be a lady befitting of my social status, and I was raised in the same way that I just described to you.”

Kagero smiled. “How did you end up here?”

“I displayed a morbid fascination with violence very suddenly as a child,” Reina explained, and looked confused. “I’m still not certain as to what caused it. My parents sent me to the castle to be a servant, hoping I would take to the domesticity of the job, but, alas…” She shrugged and waved her naginata a little. “I took to the spear and the bow more than cooking. My parents cut off all ties with me after I was promoted to the Kinshi Knights and Lady Mikoto’s service.”

“You had a goal in mind, though,” Kagero pointed out to her. “You knew you wanted to fight. It drove you, right?”

Reina laid the spear over her lap again. “It did. But until I realized what I wanted to do, I had no plans for myself, either. So what I mean by saying all this is that you just have to find what you want to do, and let that drive you.”

“I see.” Kagero stared at the profile of the naginata, the glint of it in the sun. “Even if I find something that I want, I can’t see how it fixes my relationship problems.”

Reina let out a nervous laugh and scratched her head. “Well, I admit, I know not a lot about romance. Women find me frightening, and I’ve never had a partner.”

“I’ve thought about running away, maybe,” Kagero said, and immediately became anxious as Reina fixed her with a stunned look. “If things don’t get better for me. I hear Izumo’s a nice place.”

“Are you joking?” Reina asked.

Kagero averted her gaze. “I don’t know.”

The knight stood, her grip tight on her spear. “I wouldn’t go so far as to run away. I think that running away from your problems, especially when you literally do it, is cowardly. As I said, I have no romantic experience, but Kagero.” Reina’s eyes softened and she offered her a hand. “Wait a little longer. Lady Mikoto always says that things take time. They aren’t immediate. Sometimes they aren’t even soon. But things change, for better or worse. You simply must wait.”

* * *

 

A Nohrian spy in the midst of Hoshidan courtesans was rare, extremely so, but not unheard of, and they were always big problems. Fifty years ago, during Queen Iki’s reign, a Nohrian spy in the court had relayed sensitive information about Hoshidan border villages to the Nohrian king, and two-thirds of the villages were subsequently plundered and left to burn. Only seven years after that, another was caught trying to smuggle assassins into the country, but was killed before anything came to fruition.

These spies popped up every now and then, Hoshidan courtesans or castle servants sympathetic to Nohr. Queen Mikoto had been suspected of being one herself when she first arrived, but years of serving the people diligently, and the high prince’s own efforts to warm his people up to her, erased most of those concerns. A serious spy hadn’t been seen in a long time, not after the rare and brutal public execution of one a decade before.

Saizo wished it could have stayed that way, nice and peaceful, but there he was, rushing through the rain in the middle of the night after a courtesan he’d never really liked anyway. His shoulder bled, and his legs ached from the spring.

The spy stopped running, vanishing into a thick grove of trees. Bursting in after them, Saizo found nothing, except a trail of footprints leading up to a particularly tall tree. A moment later, Obi also came running, significantly less wounded than Saizo.

“I didn’t expect you to go running so fast, especially after he got you in the shoulder,” he admitted. He stared up into the trees, blinking away raindrops from his lashes. “Your rage is excellent for getting you going.”

“Or maybe I just want to do my job and kill this goddamn spy,” Saizo spat back, though he couldn’t deny getting stabbed in the shoulder didn’t make him really,  _ really _ angry. “He’s in the trees. Risky move, considering it’s raining.”

Thunder boomed through the sky and the rain came down even harder. Saizo swiped the water out of his eye, scowling under his mask and staring into the treetops. There was not a shape, not a rustle of leaves, not a hint of anything except for what the storm caused.

“Risky move, indeed. He could fall out, if the branches get slippery enough.” Obi twirled a shuriken between his fingers, his face uncharacteristically sober. “But also a smart move. It’s dark and stormy enough that we won’t see him well. The thunder and lightning prevents us from hearing his movements. He’s not dumb.”

The spy was armed with shuriken, a bow, and a sword, Saizo remembered. Two long range weapons in his arsenal, perfect for usage from a high place like the treetops, and Saizo wondered if they were being aimed at right then.

“Climbing the trees won’t do us any good,” Obi said. “We can’t let him get away.”

“He’s still here,” Saizo told him. “I can feel him.”

The rain poured ever harder, and he began to feel uneasy, his uncertainty of where the spy was increasing. Since the loss of his eye, Saizo began to rely more on hearing and scent to help him find his marks when they were hidden, and in the storm, he could not put them to use very well. Even if he could see as well as Obi, he wouldn’t be able to see anything.

The spy, after long minutes of waiting and looking and listening, finally made himself known by shooting an arrow right into Saizo’s hip.

He shouted, his leg nearly giving in, but Saizo recalled many times where he’d suffered worse, and he stood his ground. There was no time for pain, not when he now had a clear direction of where to attack; out of his belt came a shuriken, and after a brief consideration of how the weather would affect his throw, he took aim. A cry came from the leaves, loud even above the thunder, and the spy fell from the treetops with Saizo’s weapon buried right above his knee.

“You son of a bitch,” he hissed, and the flash of fear in the spy’s eyes didn’t escape him.

The courtesan got to his feet and began stumbling away to the best of his ability, which was pretty good, if you asked Saizo, especially considering the shuriken was laced with poison potent enough to kill a grown man in mere minutes.

Despite his own injuries, it didn’t take long for Saizo to cross the clearing and grab the spy. He flinched as the man yelled and turned enough to swipe a dagger across his chest, and then over his already cut-up shoulder. A knife lodged itself in the man’s wrist, however, thrown from across the clearing by Obi, and the spy howled and dropped his dagger. 

Saizo threw the man to the ground, wincing at the fresh pain in his shoulder, and sat atop him, pressing his knee against his chest. The spy gasped and squirmed, the fear more prominent in his eyes than ever, and he beat a fist against Saizo’s leg weakly, the poison taking hold.

“You have to die now,” Saizo told the man. “You know that.”

The spy didn’t stop his futile attacks, beating Saizo’s leg. His movements grew weaker, weaker. “Get… off!”

“Was this pitiful attempt to trade information to Nohr worth it?” Obi asked, coming to stand behind Saizo. His voice was always sad and heavy when he spoke to the dying, and it was no different with a dying spy. “Why did you want to do it?”

“They have no food,” the man gasped. “They just… need… help.”

Saizo dug into a pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, multiple messages scrawled over it in easily decipherable code. The rain soaked it immediately and made it almost illegible, but he brandished it to the spy nonetheless. “Your definition of ‘helping’ was telling them how to get in contact with mercenary guilds inside Hoshido. You wanted to help them employ people to kill the queen.”

The man choked as Saizo pressed his knee harder into his chest. Even over the pouring rain and bolts of lightning, he heard the fracture of bone. “If the queen dies… they can come over… and get food. Medicine. Resources. The barrier- gone.”

“You mean they can send bandits over to plunder the border villages,” Obi cut in. “You’d sell out innocent people on the borders for some strangers? What did they offer you? Land? Power?”

The spy shook his head and made a terrified sound as Saizo put his arm blades against his throat.

“You want me to do it?” he asked Obi.

A long period of silence, and then: “If you would.”

He put the blade at the edge of the man’s neck, listened as he choked out, “I hope you rot in hell,” and pulled it over his throat.

* * *

 

The rain let up a little as Saizo and Obi made their way back to the castle grounds, and it was a faint drizzle by the time they returned. The clouds had parted, revealing a few stars here and there, though they could see the thunder and lightning in the distance as the storm traveled towards the north.

“You’re bleeding,” Obi told Saizo. “Pretty badly, actually. Want me to take you to the hospital wing?”

_ Rot in hell. _

He heard it in his mind, over and over.

_ I hope you rot in hell. _

“Saizo?”

He turned his head to Obi. “No.”

The other man sighed and shook his head. “Don’t come crying to me if you get an infection and your arm falls off. Let it be known that I, the Generous Obi, offered to take you to the hospital, and you said no.”

“How do you say stupid things like that after you’ve just watched a man die?” Saizo spat.

The look on Obi’s face was startlingly numb, in stark contrast to his happy expressions when he was near his family. This way, he looked more like a ninja, especially with his dark, heavy hair hanging in his eyes. “Makes it feel better, I guess. I don’t dwell on my kills for long.”

And with that, the man was gone, melting into the shadows leading to the stairway.

“Ridiculous clown of a man,” Saizo hissed to himself, and he grabbed his shoulder, staring at the ground where a tiny puddle of blood started to form. The maids in the morning would be alarmed, but he didn’t care about that. He cared about getting back to his room and bandaging his own wounds. The hospital would be better, with shrine maidens and monks to look after him, but he imagined they had better things to do, and better people to take care of.

He grew dizzier as he climbed the numerous flights of stairs leading to the right floor, and he leaned heavily against the wall as he walked down the hallway. Two more turns, and he would be at his rooms, where no one would bother him until the morning.

When he finally came to the proper door, his hands trembled so badly that it took him a good, solid minute before he actually managed to slide it open. He focused his mind by thinking of where his first aid kit was, all his ointments and poultices, and took a shaky step through the door.

He was greeted by the sight of an angel. An angel with long, black hair, shining like a sheet of fine silk, and dripping with water.

Great. He’d bled so much that he was dying, and some stupid angel was here to throw him in hell. The place where he deserved to rot.

He stumbled on his feet, contemplating if he should just let himself fall right over. The spectre opened her mouth, and “Saizo?” came out.

Kagero. That was definitely her voice. He wasn’t going to hell just yet, it seemed, though with the way he was bleeding, it sure felt like he would be soon.

“‘m fine,” he mumbled, swaying as he closed the door behind him. “Out of the way.”

She was clearly fresh from the bath, he dazedly noticed as she got closer. Whether he was walking towards her, or she was walking towards him, he didn’t know, but he did know that he completely collapsed against her as soon as she was close enough.

* * *

 

Baths always cleared Kagero’s head, particularly when they were hot and steaming. She found herself taking them in the middle of the night, when she couldn’t sleep, even though she knew it was a complete waste of water, but she couldn’t help it; they felt good, and they made her feel better.

She’d just gotten out of one and entered the living room when she heard the door slide open. She made a quick move for the door to her own room, not eager to see Saizo, but froze in place when she took in the sight of him:

Hunched over, his hand over his shoulder, blood rushing down his arm and leg. He was soaked to the bone, his hair wet and hanging in his eyes, and he swayed on his feet when he tried to move.

“Saizo?” she asked, unsure if it really was him.

“‘m fine,” he mumbled back, even though she’d made no enquiry after how he was. “Out of the way.”

He swayed more, shaking profusely when he walked, and she rushed forward with her arms held out. As much as she was indifferent towards him, Kagero considered herself a good person, and good people didn’t let other people bleed to death in their living rooms. Especially not if they were married to them.

He collapsed against her as soon as she got close enough, and she grunted under the strain of his deadweight. For a ninja, he was bulky. Her father was similarly built, she supposed, but it was more common for ninja to be lithe, like her brother. But Kagero was no lightweight, and she put her arms around him, twisted him enough that she could put a hand around his waist, and clumsily threw his arm over her shoulder and held his hand.

“Let me take you to the hospital wing,” she said, wondering if he was even still conscious.

He shook his head slightly and muttered something unintelligible. She grit her teeth and insisted again, and he responded more surely this time, muttering, “Got medicine in my room. ‘s good enough.”

“I’ll patch you up here tonight,” she reasoned with him. “But you must go to the hospital in the morning. Okay?”

He shook his head again, and then finally nodded when she insisted once more. He was sure to refuse again in the morning, but at least Kagero had this agreement to hold against him then.

She helped him along, stumbling over his legs every couple of steps, and finally made it to the door to his room. With great difficulty and no help from Saizo, she used her foot to slide the door open, slowly pulled him into the room, and finally all but dropped him on his bed. He groaned, a hand clutching at his chest, and she quickly apologized.

“Where’s the medicine?” she asked him, then kneeled down and grabbed his face in a hand when he didn’t answer. “Saizo, you have to tell me, please.”

Weakly, he titled his head towards a cabinet hanging on the wall. “s’there.”

Letting him go, she headed to the cabinet and opened it, instantly shocked at the amount of bottles and jars there were. She picked them up, turning them over for labels, and found that instead of official paper labels, there were only scribbles in ink.

These were all homemade, and based on the handwriting, Saizo had made them.

An agonized groan from behind her took her out of her shock, and she grabbed a roll of bandages, cotton pads, and tape, and threw them on the bed before grabbing what looked like anti-infection ointments, along with a couple other things that looked useful.

Kagero set them down carefully next to the bed, and she reached over, pulling Saizo’s mask away from his face. The metal part came off easily, and she gently pulled the cloth over his face. The came the scarf, riddled with holes and more blood than normal. She set it aside neatly, right next to the mask. He gripped her wrist roughly, likely out of instinct, as she tugged at the strings of his waist guard.

“I have to take off your clothes to treat you,” she whispered to him. “Be still.”

His grip on her wrist loosened, but his hand lingered there for a moment before he let it fall. Kagero continued pulling at the string, and then helped Saizo sit up so she could take off the guard. His shirt fell open, revealing a bloody mess all over his chest, and Kagero helped him pull it off.  She pulled at his arm guards next, carefully placing them and their attached blades in the corner side of the room, before she finally tugged at the strings holding his sleeves together. These proved harder to remove, since they were skin tight, and he swore and groaned as she pulled them off, but soon enough, his upper body was bare and she traced her eyes over him.

Two gashes on his shoulder, one deeper than the other, she found by poking at them. A slice over his chest, not very deep, and a wound obviously from an arrow right above his hip.

“I’m going to go get something to wipe all this blood off,” she told him quietly. “Let’s lay you back down, okay?”

She helped ease him back down onto the bed, and he grabbed her wrist as she made to stand.

“Don’t go,” he muttered.

Something in Kagero softened, very suddenly. There was something in his eyes, and she recognized it a second later as vulnerability. Fear.

Saizo was afraid, and he wanted her to stay with him.

She put her hand over his, nervously staring down at him. This was a side of Saizo she had never seen before, and it made her pity him. “I’m just going to go grab a towel. We have to get all this blood off, and I assume you don’t want me bathing you.”

He huffed and loosened his grip on her, and as he did before, let his fingers linger on her wrist for a moment before letting her go. She left the door to his room open as she retrieved a towel from the kitchen. She filled a wooden basin with water from a nearby jug, and carefully carried it back to the room.

Saizo had his hand over his chest again, his jaw clenched, and his eyes screwed shut. Sweat formed on his brow, and she kneeled down next to him and put her hand over his. It was awkward, most definitely, to be considering running away from Saizo earlier that day, and to now be holding his hand and rubbing the sweat from his brow.

But, something about this Saizo was different, and it’s not just the blood loss. This Saizo felt truer, softer, warmer, and she wondered if it was just exhaustion getting to her or something.

She dipped the towel in the water and gently ran it over his hip, swiping away the blood there, and then moved up to his chest. It took her longer than she would have liked, since she had to wring the blood from the towel every few strokes, and then go get more clean water, but the wounds started to clot during her cleaning, and the blood flowed out at a much slower pace.

“Do you have any wounds on your back?” she asked quietly.

Saizo’s eyes fluttered open, he struggled to focus on her, and then he shook his head and shut them once more. Kagero opened a jar after he confirmed that it was the proper medicine, and scooped it over her fingers. It was green and smelled pungent, but in her experience with Orochi’s medicine mixtures, the greener and more foul, the better.

She spread it over his hip, guilt flooding her every time he groaned and fidgeted, and she fought back the urge to jump away every time he yelled in pain. If it stung, it was most likely working, and she proceeded to rub the goop over his chest wound. He dug his fingers into the sheets of the bed as she finally got to his shoulder, and she could see him fighting against the urge to scream.

“I’m sorry,” she told him as she rubbed it in. “It's just a little more.”

Finally, after what felt like a million hours to Kagero, his wounds were cleaned, covered in medicine, and she could move on to the easier job of taping the cotton pads over his cuts and bandaging them. The medicine application seemed to have taken a lot out of him, since he laid on the bed quietly, his chest rising and falling slowly. He stared at the ceiling with a distant look in his eye.

That look wasn't just from blood loss, Kagero could tell. Something was bothering him, had shaken him, and though the very thought of asking him made her nervous, she whispered, “What's wrong?”

“I got stabbed,” he muttered.

Kagero finished taping the last pad down. Red was already spotting the one near his hip, and she ran her fingers over it. “Besides that.”

Saizo stayed quiet long enough with his eye closed that Kagero thought he maybe had fallen asleep. She reached for the candle on the nightstand, and then he spoke.

“I’m a horrible person.”

She froze, her fingers just above the candle wick. “What?”

Saizo's eye lifted open a fraction. “I’m sure you think so, too. That I’m horrible.”

She pressed her lips together and looked to the floor.

“I killed someone tonight,” he mumbled. He lifted his uninjured arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And I killed someone last week, and the week before that, and the week before that. And I’m sure I’ll kill someone next week too, and every week until someone kills me.” He stared up at the ceiling, his brow scrunched into a conflicted look. “I deserve to rot in hell.”

A wave of pity washed over Kagero, and she let her hand hover uncertainly over him. “That's not true.”

“Don't lie,” he told her, and then he hissed in pain and gripped his shoulder. She reached out on instinct, wrapping her hand over his and laying her other on his brow.

“I don't think your profession makes you horrible,” she told him in a hushed voice. “You were born into this. With your name, there's no way you could've escaped.”

His eye uncertainly met hers, and he said nothing.

“I find you honorable,” she told him, and his eyebrow lifted weakly. “I’m the daughter of a ninja family. I’ve had my whole life to think about this, and my conclusion on the profession is this: No matter how messy it is, how terrible it makes you feel, what people say, you do the hard work so other people don’t have to.” She stroked a strand of hair out of his face. “You’ve saved some one else from having to feel like this.”

His hand shook as he shifted it to hold her own. His callouses felt as rough as they did the day she met him when he held her, and it only served to increase her pity.

“Is that what you think?” he mumbled.

“Yes.”

“I see.” He exhaled deeply and shut his eye again. “Thank you. I mean it.”

A smile slipped onto her face, and she dropped the strand of his hair. “It was nothing.”

Saizo released her hand. She pulled it back into her lap, staring nervously at the ground. After a moment, she reached for the wick of the candle again, and was once more interrupted.

“Could you stay here tonight?”

Kagero’s heart lunged into her throat. She glanced back over at him, wondering if she should say yes or no. It wasn’t as though she was averse to staying the night––it would be useful to keep an eye on his wounds. On the other hand, she contemplated if it was appropriate to do so.

“Please,” he muttered, and Kagero sighed.

“If you want,” she said, and she pinched the wick of the candle. The room went dark, and she slowly moved to the other side of the bed. Her heart hammered in her chest as she knelt down on it, and she ran a hand over his shoulder once more, testing to see if there was any new blood.

Perhaps, Kagero thought as his breathing deepened, perhaps Saizo wasn’t as cold and untouchable as she had perceived him to be.

* * *

Saizo woke up to the throbbing in his shoulder, and groaned as it began to intensify, though the pain didn’t wake him up completely. The memory of the last night’s kill came back all at once, and he grit his teeth and remembered that his hip and chest were also wounded. He shouldn’t sit up quickly. He’d have to take it easy.

What did wake Saizo up completely was the feeling of a hand resting on his chest slowly registering with him. He blinked blearily, glanced over at his side, and his heart stopped in his chest.

Kagero looked cute while she slept, with her hair piled around her face and her lashes fluttering softly. Her hand rested on his chest, right over one of his wounds, and her head sat close to his shoulder. Not an incredibly comfortable position, he surmised, but she’d probably fallen asleep while watching his wounds.

He was grateful. Very grateful, but very mortified.

“Kagero!” he hissed. He lifted a hand, ignoring the screaming pain, and clenched it over hers. “Hey!”

A sharp intake of breath told him that she was waking up. He dropped her hand immediately as she began to stir, and turned his head away from her as she swiped hair out of her face and rubbed at her eyes.

“Gods, did I fall asleep?” she mumbled. Her hand jerked away from his chest in a clearly embarrassed motion, but she didn’t mention the contact. “Are you awake, Saizo?”

“Obviously,” he muttered.

The bed shifted as she moved to sit on her knees. Her arm passed behind his shoulders as she helped him sit up, and Saizo let his eye wander to the corner of the room as he got a good glimpse of her cleavage, exposed by her rumpled robe.

“Do you feel better?” she asked, and he continued to not look at her. He wished she would fix her clothes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply, letting his gaze move to her face.

Kagero frowned. “You asked me to stay.”

Saizo remembered a few things about last night. He remembered walking into the room and seeing her, falling against her, the gentle way she’d pulled his clothes away and washed the blood, and the intense pain when she’d rubbed medicine on and dressed his wounds.

He did not, however, recall much after that, and he  _ especially _ didn’t recall asking her to stay with him.

“I did not!” he sputtered.

Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, emphasizing that godforsaken cleavage. “You did. Don’t act like a child, Saizo. You asked me to stay with you for the night. Do you really think I would’ve crawled into your bed if you hadn’t asked me to?”

She made a valid point, loathe as he was to admit it. He wished he could go back in time and strangle himself, but the past was the past. He just had to deal with the fact that he, Saizo the Fifth, had had a moment of weakness.

At least, he thought, that moment of weakness was with his wife.

“I see,” he grumbled. He looked towards the bed and rubbed the juncture of his shoulder and neck. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

The look on her face softened and she uncrossed her arms. “It’s okay. You were a little off last night. It makes sense that you don’t remember.”

“If I did ask you to stay, then I must thank you,” he continued, fighting a blush. “You didn’t have to.”

Kagero smiled and reached up, running a strand of hair through her hands. “I was afraid that your wounds would open, or the bandages would come undone. My first-aid training is lacking, I’m afraid.”

His eye drifted over her chest again, he sighed, and buried a face in his hand. “Kagero, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but, please, your robe…”

Silence came from her for a moment, then an embarrassed gasp, and the bed jerked around as she stumbled off of it.

“I- I am sorry! Gods, let me go get dressed properly. I’m so sorry!”

The door slid shut behind her and Saizo lowered his hand, a relieved sigh leaving him. The throbbing in his shoulder continued to grow, and his chest and hip began to sting as he stood from the bed. He swayed, fought the pain, opened the cabinet hanging on the wall, and fumbled with his valid hand for some painkillers.

He more he thought about it, the more he vaguely remembered someone stroking his head during the night, and how nice it had felt. A mushy sentiment, perhaps, but he couldn’t deny it.

He found, as he listened to the relaxing sounds of someone in the kitchen outside the door, that perhaps his affection for her had grown. Kagero was undoubtedly a kind and gentle person, and maybe he would finally take Ryoma’s advice and make more solid efforts with her.


End file.
